sartorialists sound the swedish horn to sweep the sea clean of silt

I'm an unadorned type of girl who tends to adorn herself. Meaning I'm pretty confused. I'll be my own little leader and director of others or I'll follow you without worrying too much about where we're going. And I'll follow for a long time. You see, I thought about a scenario for a long time. Imagine someone has slighted you. What a horrible person. How could it happen. And then step over the line a little. You see they slighted you, but they didn't make fun of the uncomfortably harry man in the subway. They don't swear and you do. Where do you draw the line of rottenness. How does it go? Around in circles?
It's all circles if you try to follow it linearly. Follow it sometimes. It doesn't always hurt.
The other morning as I started some restaurantness, I realized another something. I'm really good at not worrying about things. Not outwardly worrying, reacting, I will outwardly logically be passive and not stressed. I can go with the flow. But inside I can sense there must be some cholesterolical rising. Test the knots in my shoulders. I've got knottingham crawling all up and down my back. Why? Why am I so mentally at ease, knowing it's not worth stressing over. Calmly accepting of failings and slowness and stumblings. Why inside am I holding on to it and how am I doing it, how so that I can stop?

that's why I have got to give that driver who is tweezing her eyebrows a break.

You'd think I was a serious person.

You'd also think I could do something more about late nights, hazy days, sulfured rays, homework hoops, and shmooping dupes. Allowing my sleep to go and glands to become swollen is a reoccurring circular narrative of life for me. In no ways effective. Well...in a little ways.

Follow?