Something's Amiss

When I felt the conversation was taking too long and the words were fibbing and the distraction is echoing, I thought this would have to end soon. When I realized I failed to do my norms, I knew that this is going down the drain. When I looked at my boredom and randomly fired a question at you, I knew I was dead. Something was amiss. Or was it just pure stupidity.

The probable opprobrium of that comment should have triggered my intellect to crack its whip on my appetite. But something was amiss. Or perhaps, something went in place.

Emotional outbursts, like I said, should be controlled by reason. But it seemed I did not walk the talk. You caught me. Amazing. Stupid.

The merchant of Venice took a pound of my heart. It was all well. My reason was a pound less than the original heart I had. So it was a fair deal.

Now Plato, I know you would not smirk at me but could I imagine you smirking? Your thoughts and ideas pervade me now, not as comfort but as an insult. You were right, no good could come if the spirited element wrenches the reins from reason. You were bluntly right. Yet, mere knowledge of this does not seem to help much. Something is amiss.