I’m ignoring the mouth-breathing of my feelings.

I’m staring directly at my feelings until my feelings feel uncomfortable and move away.

I’m fighting over the armrest with my feelings.

I’m not touching my feelings, I’m not touching my feelings, I’m not touching my feelings…

I’m farting and blaming it on my feelings.

I’m getting bubblegum out of my feelings’ hair… again.

I’m listening and really focusing on my feelings but finding it hard not to think my feelings sound exactly like Carol Channing. Does anyone remember Carol Channing? Didn’t she guest on The Love Boat? Man, remember those shows? Battle of the Network Stars? Is there anything like that now? We don’t have that kind of celebrity system anymore. It feels like everyone’s beyond that, too cool. Seriously, who are the Dick Van Pattens of our time? Anyway, my feelings are too young to remember any of this. Shit, I’ve lost track of what my feelings were telling me! I hope it wasn’t important.

I’m questioning my feelings’ sexuality.

I’m playing Uno with my feelings to pass the time.

I’m preparing a camping trip with my feelings, and my feelings have kind of taken over, and I’m starting to feel resentful. Whose idea was camping anyway, feelings? Have you ever even set up a tent, feelings?

I’m sitting quietly with my feelings but I’m pretty sure my feelings can tell I’m pissed.

I’m telling my feelings everything is fine.

I said everything is fine, feelings, don’t worry about it.

I’m getting up and walking away from my feelings before I lose my cool.

I’m sensing my feelings are following me, not taking the hint at all.

I’m pretending to read a magazine as my feelings ask, “Is it because I’m railroading through my camping ideas?”

I’m glaring at my feelings.

I’m listening to my feelings apologize. “We’re sorry,” my feelings are saying, “you know how excited we get sometimes.”

I’m resenting my feelings for being so goddamn reasonable.

I’m finding it impossible to stay mad at my feelings.

I’m accepting a tissue from my feelings.

I’m hugging my feelings.

I’m making sweet, tender love to my feelings. My feelings get me.

I’m doing that thing to my feelings that my feelings really like.

I’m fantasizing that my feelings are Carol Channing.

I’m lying beside my feelings, spent.

I’m pretending to be asleep when my feelings quietly ask me what I’m feeling.

I’m feeling guilty about my other feelings and promise myself I’ll tell the truth one of these days, maybe break it off with my other feelings. Yes, these are my true feelings. I’m an idiot for having other feelings.

I’m ignoring the buzzing from my phone. I know it’s my other feelings and so do my feelings.

I’m watching my feelings get up. My feelings are giving me such a disappointed look and walking away.

I’m sad.