Monday, September 25, 2006

and an even more bizarre week

'Desperately seeking drama', she said.

So what if I have an overactive imagination? It keeps me entertained. But the last ten days have been weirder than anything I've thought up so far.

It's a monday morning, in office, and I feel - cocooned. Wrapped in a soft fuzzy envelope. I can see, hear everything, but it's with a distinct feeling of disconnection. Like it doesn't really apply. Sound is muted. Hushed. It's not like the other times when I can feel myself looking out from behind my eyes - I might be insulated, but I'm very much there in the environment. This is like - not being here. Real-time, real-life memory. Waking dreams.

Backlash of emotional intensities. Guilt, tension, indecision... all overlaid with a sense of I-can't-believe-this-is-actually-happening feeling. Physical exhaustion. Sleep deprived, alcohol-fueled states of mind. Endorphins at their lowest point this month.

repaired the comp broke up got together got slapped didn't get drunk hot happy signed up ate ate ate smoked up a lungsqueezing level of fags watched movies and movies and movies walked talked rode around bombay at 3 am worked

It's like... everything piles up together. Like a freeway smash. Does this mean the last few years my life's been accelerating, the curves getting faster, more dangerous, the skids a little longer each time... and when you're in a car, with the windows up, the AC on, and the music playing, you don't realize when you cross the line into dangerous speeds.

When did I get into a car? It was always supposed to have been the bike.

I need to find out if this silence means I've gone off the edge, or just rolled to a stop on the side.


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