I have a tendency towards overreaction. Over-enthusiasm, over-excitement, over-expression, exaggerated hand gestures. There's a video someone made of me in college where I am talking about something lame like grass, but I am gesticulating wildly.

Quiet people know things quietly. In their bones. Occasionally, I feel this way, and I shake the feeling off. It is uncomfortable to be ruled by something larger than you, calling all the shots.

It is like those precious emo bands, where the lead singer sounds like he's on your shoulder, singing in your ear. And you just want to hold your hand up and say, "Stop. Stop it, please. Please get off my shoulder. Please get out of my ear."

Because externalized pseudo-hysteria is preferable to the quiet contentment of knowing, perhaps, how the narrative actually resolves. That is to say, in the midst of your own unpreparedness for life to reveal itself, there is a satisfaction to the the tension of resisting, or at least pretending to resist certain truths.