I accidentally fell asleep on the couch. It lured me away from consciousness with it's warmth and familiarity, almost sinfully.

Waking to the sharp darkness was not fun, it confused my circadian rhythm a hell of a lot, but I suppose it had to be done.

While that literally did happen it's also slightly metaphory for other things, but I don't care to explain.

How are you? I have the words "I already" scribbled down on paper in front of me for no apparent reason.

Would you pursue a mirage, even if you knew it was one? But you wanted it anyway? But you knew you'd destroy it if you tried?

I couldn't, but I think it was the right decision. But wrong feels so much better sometimes.

Some of today was so fun. The sky-staring, the making up as yet uncreated products with grass. Weird close-friends-only type humour. More of that please.

The parts with me dwelling on why my life makes me cry not so fun, thinking about them tends to make me cry.

For one reason or another we all ended up crying in the cafe we were in. And not in a "Wow the food is so revolutionary it brings tears to my eyes" type way. Things suck but at least there's a solidarity about them.

I've run out of things to mention but I don't want to leave, then I'll think about the things I'm losing and won't ever be able to sleep, can't sleep, clown'll eat me.

I might just sit here and stare at the screen blankly for a few hours, okay?

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