Another friend tells you you have to learn not to absorb the world. She says sometimes she can hear...

Another friend tells you you have to learn not to absorb the world. She says sometimes she can hear her own voice saying silently to whomever–you are saying this thing and I am not going to accept it. Your friend refuses to carry what doesn’t belong to her.

You take in things you don’t want all the time. The second you hear or see some ordinary moment, all its intended targets, all the meanings behind the retreating seconds, as far as you are able to see, come into focus. Hold up, did you just hear, did you just say, did you just see, did you just do that? Then the voice in your head silently tells you to take your foot off your throat because just getting along shouldn’t be an ambition.

–Citizen: An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine