3. Joy - With Blind Eyes


How to begin describing this...

I've told you all about my dream.

This post isn't about that.

I mean it might be? Maybe it is. I don't know anything anymore.

It seems like sleep time is not just used for dreaming, at least not for me, not anymore.

I think I "sleep-wrote"

(#not-a-thing?) this.  

Whatever it is.



I can read some of it.

Mostly it’s just confusing.

To be fair,
my sleep handwriting is about the same as my awake handwriting.

go figure.


Just realised I zoned out and was staring into space while I braided -
ah shit

I was braiding strips of one of my new shirts

(okay, not "new",
but "nicer" shirts).


I don't remember cutting it up.

I don't even know where the scissors are now.

Did I just do this or did I do the prep work earlier?

Why are my hands on autopilot while daydreams literally steal my mind?

Why am I writing about...

"leeches... on my soul.."

(is that what that says?)????

You ever see someone and just can't shake the impression and deep,
distinct feeling that you have met them before?

When you can't place where from,

it just burrows a little deeper and the harder you think about it,
the harder the tick is to grasp -

the further the tenuous mental link seems to become??


you probably say as you read this,
"I'm normal."



imagine that feeling applied to this writing.


I have more questions than answers by a wide margin.

It took me several hours to finish this blog entry.

My folks'd be proud.