27.Aug.2001

in a daze of existence

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i'm not here

People are typing to me. I see them type, I can make out the words, I can string the words together into coherent sentences, but nothing registers. I stare blank-faced at my computer monitor. I don't feel my mind leaving its warm cranial shell, but I know I'm currently not aware. I don't have the energy to drown myself in other's drama, or to concentrate upon other's drama, I'm simply not here. There are only a few who have the ability to somehow break through my self-obsessed space and affect me, but even then it's muddled.

I'm turning into an Ellis novel.

Oh Patrick, you're just the boy next door, aren't you? Patrick's just the boy next door.

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time & machine