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I leave my room, under my shirt a lanyard.
A pair of keys, attached with a ring bounce against my chest,
the unpleasant feeling of cold metal resting on my skin fades quickly.
Am I adapting to it? Merely ignoring the feeling?
I know not, and it may be better that way.
Forcing myself to observe the automatic processes of life sounds uncomfortable,
similar to thinking about the closing and opening of eyes, or positioning of the tongue.
In holding these thoughts you force an likely necessary yet disgusting process of introspection.
These very thoughts are in that process I suppose,
A return to blissfully ignoring that process sounds pleasant.
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