Sometimes, I Really Am Different

It struck me hard, although not unexpected, today that maybe I am, after all, slightly different than most other people. And I mean in a mental sense. We'll leave the drastically-skinny-yet-gifted-with-an-enormous-head to some other time.

I'm assuming normal peoples' thought process goes something like this (while waking up in the morning):

*sees self in mirror* 'Oh man, my hair is so messed up... and I'm getting scruffy. Guess it's time to shave. Maybe I'll get a haircut later. Egh for now I'll just shower [or, if they're a night time shower-er, they'll just rinse their hair and wash their face] and put something in it... good enough for now'

OR, it might go something like this:

*sees self in mirror, pauses for a few moments* 'fuck it.'

And then they would go about their normal life, whatever that may be. Mine, however, is somewhat different:

*sees self in mirror* 'Oh man, my hair is so messed up... and I'm getting scruffy. *beat* Damn, this kind of gives me that "I don't care, I'm a badass," look. I look good with this jacket on. I should always look like this. My girl would love this. Girls like scruffy, right? It gives me a "rough" look that I'm sure J would want to tame. *beat* Yeah, girls like that. Matthey McConaughey is like that. He's pretty cool. I wonder if he ever found his shirt. I wish I would've brought more shirts home with me. I brought a lot of jackets and sweaters, but not enough shirts. Damn I look good in this jacket."

And the cycle continues. Stream of consciousness, here I come!