Did you know that I am writing a longer story, made up of mental health entries? I started last week, and I will stop whenever I feel like it, or maybe if people tell me they don't like them.
Principal Brink clutched a styrofoam coffee cup in his left hand and fiddled with his office window with his right. He was standing in the bushes outside the window, and it was earlier than most people would arrive at the school. Still, he was being cautious. He was anxious, and every time he realized that he was anxious, he would question whether or not this was a rational feeling to have.
That was a mistake, because in asking himself, he would list in his mind every reasonable anxiety he might have, and would then move on, unable to stop himself, to the unreasonable ones. Reasonable: someone might see the principal acting strangely, or even think he was a criminal breaking in to the school. Unreasonable: he had heard that styrofoam was more or less unrecyclable, doomed to sit in the ground for millennia until it burned and turned into carcinogens or something. Also unreasonable: thinking about carcinogens led him to reflect on that one mole on his back, which was sort of oddly-shaped.
He shook his head and returned to the task at hand: getting the window open and climbing inside, while managing not to spill his coffee or scuff his shoes or be seen by anyone.