Waiting

No matter how many interviews I've had. It only seems to vaguely get easier. I wrote this waiting for an interview:

I feel the pitter patter of my heart. I reminds myself to smile and breathe. You chose to be here and nowhere else. The scenery is warm. Colored though not overwhelming. There's very little curiosity as to why I'm here. Perhaps it's that obvious. In comparison, I look overdressed.

I stare at the poster on the wall. The words could have been my beliefs, written by me. I guess I would have figured that out earlier if I had paid more attention. I suppose that makes this more exciting and scary at the same time.