Sometimes life makes no sense. This week, I’m having a new version of an old dream at night. I’ve had it so often I’m often lucid in it at this point, but still unable to control the emptiness I feel no matter how I force it to end. So in that state of restless randomnity, I WANT to write, but I have nothing. Nothing in particular to say after wandering through my own day like a ghost.
Right. Now I can finally delete all that shit from my desktop. Thanks for listening.