I’m Not Clever

Put away your magnified glass. There is no case to solve. Pocket your decoder ring. There is no message to encrypt. I'm just playing table tennis with my insecurities. A 15 - love score makes it hard to leave the house. If the curtain was lifted, you would see that nobody is ready. The stage is not set, extras are not dressed, and leads are sipping coffee. What masterful plan do you think is being laid? Brilliant telegraphs of psychological warfare are simply past memories biting my brain. All the day long I growl at specters that you can not see. Attributions of personal grievances are wildly misplaced. My ghosts have blindfolded and spun me around. If I ran into your pride, you must pardon the collision, but if candy spills from your chest, we must have a serious talk. What is done is done, unless what was done is just the product of fun. My existence should be unknown to you. Inkblots start to take form with too much peekaboo. There is no storyline, the plot is missing. All of my pages refuse binding. They curl before would be authors. Their script alternates between silent letters and silent sentences. Confusion is the order of my affections. Nothing would please me better than to submit to a clear arrangement of interests. Sensible friendship is not a big ask for most, but I stand on the ceiling. An eye to eye meeting would not improve the disorientation. Neither should you hope to find your way back to a normal crowd. All of my milestones are missing. You're stuck with me. So drink down the last of these Dramamine tablets, and climb the walls carefully.