it's good i stopped acting because

i'd be the worst even slightly-famous person ever. i’ve increasingly been revisiting my sixth grade boycott on bras outside the home (my mom would check that i had one on, i’d scurry to the bus stop and take it off before the bus came. you’re welcome 12 year old boys!) and very often when i see someone i know – especially during my commute - i try to hide. super gregory house misanthropic of me, i know. it’s just that i have specific rituals i like to follow and get all disjointed when they’re interrupted.

basically i need to: listen to my music and stare out the window and not talk. i also like to wipe any expression off my face and stare blankly and maybe look a little angry. it keeps away stalkers – i’ve never had one and am sadly proud - and discourages any gratuitous conversation. unfortunately, it seems to encourage old men to tell me to cheer up! then i punch them.

this morning i got an aisle seat and settled in for the ride. midway through, as i was taking a quick break from staring, i looked down and recognized the shoes beside me. with a quick glance up, i confirmed my suspicions: an ex coworker. one that made me cry the day i had an ear infection and couldn't finish a chart on time. no way was i spending the next 20 minutes making awkward small talk chit chat while she stood and i sat, losing valuable slack jaw time. so i pushed my hair in front of my face (thanks bangs!) and looked down at my lap and prayed for anonymity.

two stops before mine she hopped off, snapping open her umbrella against the rain and ignorant to my presence. or maybe just happy she avoided me, too.