strainers.
I can't sleep, so I write things out. Its sort of uncomfortable.
I can't sleep because of dry skin and paper cuts. I was exhausted, earlier. I woke up twenty minutes later. I feel really dry, literally and figuratively. Physically, and metaphorically. I'm drinking water. Maybe I need a drink. I've already taken two baths today, which is weird enough.
I was laying (or lying?) in bed trying to figure out what was keeping me up. All I could come up with is dry skin and paper cuts. Everything else cancels out. Everything else balances out. Shitty, shitty, shitty concept of.. what. Don't know. It's outside my train of thought right now, and I don't feel like stopping to pick it up. That was cheesy. I had shitty pizza at the mall today, but I still ate two slices because I weigh 125 when I thought I weighed 128. There was no cheese and the pepperoni tasted gross. I paid $8 for that. I wanted pizza, though.
I had the most beautifully clear stream-of-conscious passage in bed. I guess it stayed lying (or laying?) there when I got up. I'll go back to bed soon, and it'll pass again. Like last night. It kept passing and passing. I can't quite stay asleep. I'm too asleep for anything else but this, though. Thinking. Stream-of-conscious. Never fully streaming just consciously, but enough to prevent me from being unconscious. It's that tricky subconscious. Oh, snap. I'm such a nerd, playing with words. Damnit, if that rhymed, I didn't intend for it to. It just depends on your pronounciation.
Brilliantly dull, I'd say. Because I can't break out of patterns or word play, and when I do, I can't get back quick enough.
Dry. Blank. Bored. Sleepy. Not tired. Trite, and proud in thinking so. Why? If you don't get it, I feel that much better about myself. And that much lonelier. And that much more vulnerable in saying anything at all. Why? Why not. I feel cocky. Damn cocky. I can keep going like this forever. Or until I go to work in the morning and am finally about to sleep.
Blah blah blah.
It's sickening and satisfying at the same time how the story I just so happened to have read went so well with how impressionable I am when it comes to reading stories. It's all about conditioning. We strive for this. Then, we realize it. Then, we can either drink to forget it, or keep figuring it out even more. Until you're looking at a mirror with a mirror behind you, and looking into that mirror too. And there's no knot where the ends meet so you don't even know you're looping. But that can be fun. We make rides out of looping. We make songs with it. We loop our concepts in film and literature, and thats entertainment. We follow rolemodels and loop their lives, only with our names in the place of theirs. That's fine. Makes me a bit nauseous to think about, but I'm sure I've mentioned before that I get motion sickness. And aren't we all just constantly moving.. Oh, what do you know. Nothing, because knowing can't be known, no? Any basic philosophy class can tell you that. I don't know what I'm talking about. See? Full of contradictions and balance.
I've got to pee now and I'm still just as thirsty and dry as before. Maybe I wash my face too much. Maybe I paid too much attention in english. Maybe I'm just deeply in love with myself because.. because. It's all I know? If that much is possible. If the ideal person to love is someone you can trust, laugh with, and just know*, then who better to be in love with than yourself?
*Know. What a bitch of a concept to figure out. I got a C in philosophy.
Back to the drawing board.. meaning the head board, if that's what it's called. I tend to make up words. Anyway, I'm going to bed.
But you didn't have to read that. To get my point, you could have just gone "wah wah wahhh.." It saves time.
I can't sleep because of dry skin and paper cuts. I was exhausted, earlier. I woke up twenty minutes later. I feel really dry, literally and figuratively. Physically, and metaphorically. I'm drinking water. Maybe I need a drink. I've already taken two baths today, which is weird enough.
I was laying (or lying?) in bed trying to figure out what was keeping me up. All I could come up with is dry skin and paper cuts. Everything else cancels out. Everything else balances out. Shitty, shitty, shitty concept of.. what. Don't know. It's outside my train of thought right now, and I don't feel like stopping to pick it up. That was cheesy. I had shitty pizza at the mall today, but I still ate two slices because I weigh 125 when I thought I weighed 128. There was no cheese and the pepperoni tasted gross. I paid $8 for that. I wanted pizza, though.
I had the most beautifully clear stream-of-conscious passage in bed. I guess it stayed lying (or laying?) there when I got up. I'll go back to bed soon, and it'll pass again. Like last night. It kept passing and passing. I can't quite stay asleep. I'm too asleep for anything else but this, though. Thinking. Stream-of-conscious. Never fully streaming just consciously, but enough to prevent me from being unconscious. It's that tricky subconscious. Oh, snap. I'm such a nerd, playing with words. Damnit, if that rhymed, I didn't intend for it to. It just depends on your pronounciation.
Brilliantly dull, I'd say. Because I can't break out of patterns or word play, and when I do, I can't get back quick enough.
Dry. Blank. Bored. Sleepy. Not tired. Trite, and proud in thinking so. Why? If you don't get it, I feel that much better about myself. And that much lonelier. And that much more vulnerable in saying anything at all. Why? Why not. I feel cocky. Damn cocky. I can keep going like this forever. Or until I go to work in the morning and am finally about to sleep.
Blah blah blah.
It's sickening and satisfying at the same time how the story I just so happened to have read went so well with how impressionable I am when it comes to reading stories. It's all about conditioning. We strive for this. Then, we realize it. Then, we can either drink to forget it, or keep figuring it out even more. Until you're looking at a mirror with a mirror behind you, and looking into that mirror too. And there's no knot where the ends meet so you don't even know you're looping. But that can be fun. We make rides out of looping. We make songs with it. We loop our concepts in film and literature, and thats entertainment. We follow rolemodels and loop their lives, only with our names in the place of theirs. That's fine. Makes me a bit nauseous to think about, but I'm sure I've mentioned before that I get motion sickness. And aren't we all just constantly moving.. Oh, what do you know. Nothing, because knowing can't be known, no? Any basic philosophy class can tell you that. I don't know what I'm talking about. See? Full of contradictions and balance.
I've got to pee now and I'm still just as thirsty and dry as before. Maybe I wash my face too much. Maybe I paid too much attention in english. Maybe I'm just deeply in love with myself because.. because. It's all I know? If that much is possible. If the ideal person to love is someone you can trust, laugh with, and just know*, then who better to be in love with than yourself?
*Know. What a bitch of a concept to figure out. I got a C in philosophy.
Back to the drawing board.. meaning the head board, if that's what it's called. I tend to make up words. Anyway, I'm going to bed.
But you didn't have to read that. To get my point, you could have just gone "wah wah wahhh.." It saves time.