He wrote in simple sentences to provide a grounding sense to the reader, and he wrote in long, purplish, embellished sentences perhaps to gratify a personal need for beauty through means of abstruse adverb choices. One style would switch to the next as if a new chapter in a new book.
Geoff would write affirmations in his notebook in the second person, a habit instilled in him by a therapist when he was a teenager. He would read out the affirmations some mornings.
Only following through on your commitments will build self esteem.
You are committed to your beliefs to the extent that you act them out.
You are a true man. You are a fighter.
Whenever he reached the word “man” he experienced something akin to a psychic hiccup or emotional glottal stop. He became shifty, and, if he was speaking aloud like he was this morning, his voice would become soft and effete toward the last sentence. Today the word “fighter” was barely a squeak under his breath.
It was early, which was motivating. Whenever he realized, however, on an early morning, that the day was to last an extra several hours, and he must use those hours effectively and to his benefit, he became a little bit paralyzed. This resulted in a bit of a sleep addiction.
Today, though, he knew what to do. He walked to the nearest coffee shop, Beanie Baby, and ordered a medium mocha. The barista asked if he’d like an alternative milk. (Am I oat-milk-presenting? Would it seem pretentious if I asked if they had macadamia?) He asked for reduced fat. (Am I fat?) As the barista handed him a coffee with floral foam art, he was brought back into the moment. It was an achievement so small and specific, an interaction of what must have been a steep learning curve filled with milky mistrials and loose, foamy interpretations. Just then he realized that the barista had beautiful brown eyes not unlike those of a cow. Like a clean brown calf. He told her “This is beautiful…” but he was too quiet to be heard. He wanted to tell her he admired her technique, or her eyes, but he did not. Geoff promptly wobbled the coffee in his fine pale hand, sloshing it just enough to cause minor spillage on the counter and a wet ring around the circumference of the compostable cup. He cleaned it up efficiently (Will she notice my conscientiousness and general attention to hygiene?)
Pleased with himself, he sat down at the table and opened his notebook.