It bothers me that I think. I think always, about everything. When others walk about, chatting happily away, I sit in the corner, thinking of something "good" I could say. Instead of going on cheerily, I am forced to think. And this bothers me.
It worries me that I think. Thinking, for me tends to lead into worry. I think about the world around me. I try not to imagine all the pain and suffering. The children beaten for no reason, animals slaughtered for a spot on the dollar menu.  All these things sink deeply Into me, but instead of giving in I fight to keep sanity. And somehow, even in this I find an "appropriate" degree in which to worry.
    I think I have begun to judge too much. When I see people behaving stupidly, it annoys me more than it should, so it seems. I used to be much more relaxed and carefree. It didn't much matter to me when I'd observe this, our culture of idiocy. But now, as I have begun to reflect on it more, I have come to see people as much of a bore. And this has shut me down socially. I have become too judgmental, both internally and externally.
    As I read my books, I feel more at ease. Though I miss companionship, I somehow manage to do without. I think I may be depressed, at least bogged down with anxiety. But that's just who I am, who I will likely always be.
    The unrelenting worry-wart, I am my own lawyer, I take my case to court. And there I will stand trial against the id and ego in me, the two sides that make up each and every cognizant human being. I will review the evidence, hear testimony and be judged by a panel of my peers. They will dissect all past and present intellectual transgressions, and see where I go too far. They will objectify and analyze what I do and how I perceive. Then, the gavel will sound off and I will hear rite verdict of my plea. Although I don't know what the end will be, I know I will never allow myself to think to any lesser a degree.