I'm always sleepy, always hungry. I don't read the newspapers. I have problems understanding storybooks. I lack the attention to savour the details, and am deprived of patience to finish them. I sleep more than 12hours if I can. I forgot 3/4 of my vocabulary, lost 9/10 of my analytical skills, am too shelled up to do anything more, and am afraid of the consequences of my doing less and less.
I'm in another kinda world. Kinda routine, kinda unreal. What's real or not real. Acknowledged vs not acknowledged? Conscious vs subconscious vs unconscious? Acceptance and self-denial? Gee. What am I rattling about.
Blogs. Kinda like another world. An unspoken world with a kind of painful depth that only literary texts can have. And blogs reveal some kinda dark and gloomy side ppl have once in a while. Sunshiney on the surface, dark somewhere, hidden somewhere, unspoken of somewhat. In the new generation where phonecalls are rare, and where thumbs do all the sms-talking, ppl rarely have conversations do they.
How do I reboot my regressing brain. And stop my sleepaholic addictions. oh sheesh. I need my bed.
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