I'M NOT ADRIFT | Eminem

Head covered by his hood, there's a mysterious look to him when he's outside the safety of the office or the private, sectioned off area of a restaurant.

He stares up at the stop sign of the up-coming corner.
I look at his dull face, lacking any particular emotion.
It's the way it usually is.
He doesn't smile much.
When he does it feels oddly special.

"Tell me what you're thinking right now... I don't care what it is...
I won't tell anyone"

All I can do is stare blankly at him.
He's not looking at me.
Forward, he looks forward, eyes half open.
When there's a long enough span of silence, he turns to me.
His eyes are searching for something.
I really don't know what it is.
I'm confused.
I'm confused as to why he cares so much.
Why is he so interested?

"Why are you so interested in me? That's what I'm thinking, front and center"
My voice is flat, I'm not nervous asking.

"I'm trying to figure out if I should be interested in you or not. So far you're not all that spectacular, I'm just trying to take Dre's word"
Well that's a lot to process...

"First of all, ouch. Not all that spectacular? Bud, I'm the very definition of spectacular... or maybe eccentric... unconventional and slightly strange...? Second, you go for any women based on referrals?"
I talk fast.
I talk really fast when I'm anxious.
I'm definitely erratic at times.

"Sorry, I'm just the way I am-"

"Yes I'm aware, you wrote a song about that"
I interrupt him suddenly, noticing his words sounding familiar and choosing to joke about it.

He chuckles softly before continuing on as if I said nothing, "Besides, you're hot, so there's a second reason."
We turn the corner slowly, taking the path of the suburban neighbourhood sidewalk.
I don't know where we're heading. I don't think he knows either.
We're just going somewhere.
Somewhere is nowhere in my books.

"Mhm, lovely, I'll completely move past that but thanks for the compliment I guess?"
I cock my head at him, grinning curiously.

"You're welcome, seriously, do you have any reason why Dre thinks you're the shit?"
He turns to face me again, stopping and raising an eyebrow.
He's searching for an answer and I've been dancing around it desperately.

"You won't tell anyone?"
I'm considering telling him.
I don't know if it's that which makes me 'the shit' though...
Ah yes, I'm a schizophrenic, thus making me very fun to be around.

"Jesus what is it?" He jokes, laughing to himself.
His face is curious, his expression spells out sitting at the edge of a seat, waiting for something life changing to be said.

Some sense of rational kicks in.
I shouldn't get this personal with him.
"I- I don't know if I should tell you this shit... I mean- fuck, Marshall I barely even know you! I don't know how to read social queues, so I can't tell if you're into me or just really touchy- I don't know why I'm here right now. I don't really know why I said yes to any of this... I'm sorry... I just..."
My voice is calm, but it rambles. I ramble on.
I don't know why.
I don't know why.
Why?
Why?

He seems utterly shocked.
He comes to a completely stop, directing all his attention to me.
Well now I've fucking done it.
I'm looking a bit more crazy now, aren't I?
He stares, star-struck.
"You're kind of worrying me here. What, you made in a lab or somethin?"
He chuckles to himself.
He's good at making things lighter.
I'm not.
I'm making it all worse.
I'm so incompetent.
Fuck.

"No... It's just a- it's just all messy. I'm a strange individual... I- I guess..? I'm funny and intellectual, I guess that's what Dre means" I try to wrap things up, smoothing them over while also making things much worse for myself.

Normal people don't say that.
Normal people don't rambling on like I did a couple of minutes ago.
Oh boy...

"Yo, stop doin' that" he speaks abruptly.
I don't really know how to respond.
What do I stop doing?
I'm confused.
Embarrassed for some reason.

"Doing- Doing what?" I try choking out half of what I'm curious about.
Even then I can't do it properly.

"Deflecting, just tell me whatcha thinkin"
It's hard to take him serious with the slang he uses, yet I'm forced to anyways.
It's uncomfortable for me to say what I think.
It usually seems impossible.

I stand still for what feels like years.
I want to say something enticing while also being honest to what I really am saying.
I want to say something that shocks but keeps an intrigue going.
I won't give up information just because he dug a little bit.
I'll give him something to pour over.

"I think that if I tell you the truth, I might watch any shadow of normalcy pass over me like a good dream I've forgotten. I think that I'm enjoying the prospect of being some subsection of odd or strange rather than what I really am. I might come across as cryptic to you, vague or questionably abstract, but it's better than what I really am..." my voice is calm.
I planned each word as it came out of my mouth in the most thoughtful manner I've ever composed.

He sits in silence for what feels like hours.
Years of my unconventional life passing within the minute he takes to formulate a response amidst whatever it was I just did.
"I guess this is what he means, huh..?"
His eyes are wide, maybe a feel of innocence in his gaze.
I don't know.
It's just what I see.
He doesn't know any of what he desires to get into.

"Goodnight Marshall, I'll see you tomorrow"
I bring my hand to my forehead, saluting before twisting on my heal and walking off.
Back the way I came.
I don't fucking know.

That was the most confidence I've ever put into something.
Let alone something so absurdly bold.
I believe what I did was tease him.
I think?
I'm not sure.

"Yo! ...Nisha!" He tries to call out to me, but his voice halters. He doesn't attempt to come after me, letting me walk off in dramatic effect of some kind.
"...oh Jesus"