It's the time of the year when all brain function goes out the window and all I really remember how to do is lay in the sun and let the last remnants of my brain melt away.
God I wish I had something good to write about. Hm. Is this a diary? I have no idea.
Or am I supposed to write thoughts and idea.
Brain Brain Brain
Something about the summer that gets my brain thinking about mysterious medical ailments that I may or may not have. Ask my mom and she says I don't got them. Ask me and I'm all question marks.
This is the time of year when my brother gets all concerned for my well-being.
Constant bombardment of "Did you eat?" and "Be nice to yourself."
I could die.
Yet I choose life. (embarrassing...)
He should thank me one day.
This is seriously messed up. What am I writing I have no idea.
Just playing around with some paragraph lengths. Lengths. Furlongs. What are these words.
It's crazy how we can understand things written on a page. That is something I can never understand. How do these words flow so naturally from my brain to whatever medium of communication I am using. Well, not just me, but everyone. everyone everyone everyone.
How do we understand.
Some days I am completely blown away by this idea and I wonder if I'll ever forget how to understand and speak. Then you start focusing and everything becomes blurry.
Heart racing.
Ugh. Anxiety.
In my opinion there is nothing worse.
Never feel too anxious during the school year, when there's so much to think about. Never focusing on yourself.
But the summer time.
Don't get me started. Hate the feeling of fear. Fear of being afraid. Feeling afraid.
Fear of yourself. Afraid of yourself, is more accurate I suppose.
Because I'd like to think that fear, in an of itself, is not a selfish emotion (is fear an emotion?)
I'd love to stop writing about myself about now. Thanks.
Something funny would be nice. Now.
punching ornaments in my sleep
ReplyDelete