I'm absent-mindedly twisting my pen in my fingers back at my desk, and it gives me a huge surge of anger—at myself. Stilling the pen sharply and laying it down with a smack and scowling at it as though it's the cause. Another habit from childhood that I'm permanently trying to overcome, and just one of the subtle tells that I'm not who I perceive to be. The only flaw in my perfect demeanor that I grasp so tightly onto.
I fidget.
And it's so at odds with the persona I've managed to create for myself since my teen years, getting away from the life I once knew. A stark reminder of how far I've come from my childhood in Chicago, and a habit that annoys me on a serious level. Not only because it betrays the confidence I seem to emit, but also because it's juvenile. My fidgeting occurs on many
