स्माल टॉक.

Today the anxiety piles on as I drive and as I go to the move store. I pick up a movie, one with the crazy antics that are descriptive of this world. The kind of antics where everyone tries to top each other in some kind of a nostalgic fantasy of comedic timing, it usually works. It's also funny (mood swings, celexa and cytalopram 500 MG's = I don't got nomo :( let us continue.). As I picked up a movie I noticed that everyone around me was overwhelmingly strange, and I thought to myself, well I'm the strange one... but even so, I just wanted to get out. Like I said, the anxiety was piling on and people didn't help. As I was checking out I thought I'd talk to the cashier to calm my nerves. I saw on his arm a tattoo which legibly wrote something not very legible: PFC Somethingorsomething. I don't exactly know what it said so I just said, "Private first class?", and he said, "That's for my friend who served in the army with me." Side note, he seemed not even 19 let alone had served his time in the army. "He got hit by a roadside bomb.", He said as I was completely taken aback, all I could squeeze out was, "oh, sorry." He said also, "He didn't need that." and I said back "Nobody needs that." He politely agreed. He handed me my movie and I told him to have a good day, and he did back. So in my attempt to start small talk I was given a story and an image. Both of which were disturbing, but the kind of non-fiction we see in the world. I just found it interesting that there may be no such thing as small talk besides the weather, and I never want to have it.
-Lindsey