Things get so iffy when I'm around John. I don't think this is a rare thing for us. We were going south on the 99 on our way back home from the grocery store. I was talking about the last relationship I was in, which wasn't a relationship so much as a twisted version of love, one that should be farther removed from me, considering how long ago it happened. That's not important. What's important is that feeling of lucid driving. So lucid that when I think about that particular conversation, I'm in the passenger seat, and John is looking to his right every so often, to aknowledge what I am saying.
The truth is, and I have to catch myself when I reflect on the memory...the truth is that I was the one driving.
John has a way of asking questions I should know. Obvious things, things that I should have considered. Being overly concerned with effeciency and pragmatic thinking, I rock back to my sleeves, those heart-laden things, dictating my actions. This leaves room for nothing in the middle, as I tend to rock back and forth in extremes. I say, "I don't know" so much around him.
I feel like I forget so much, and then there is the stuff that I haven't even considered (the stuff that John, or my mother, or you would pick up on), that gets tossed to oblivion.