When I get nervous, I grin. Not like a sheepish grin. Not even like a full-on smile. But like one of those grins you'd expect to see right before a psychotic clown murders you to death. It would be unnerving on the best day, but I only get really, really nervous I'm: at a hospital, at a funeral home, delivering bad news, or having an argument. So, you know, it's like fifty-bajillion times worse. I can't stop my grin. I try. I've tried for as long as I've been alive. When I try to stop it, I just look like an insane clown who is also biting her lips with all her teeth. Like the kind of person who got towed away in a straight jacket and treated with electroshock therapy at the Asylum for Loons in the olden (Beauty and the Beast) days.
But you're, like, in a hospital bed or whatever, and so it makes you feel like this.
Just another reason I shouldn't be let out of the house.