I got a jab in on my left side, in front of the bottom rib, and so I got up to take a look around and lost a few sips. Moving should be ok. Why is so much of my productivity tied to sitting down? I have to change that. I have to really get some thought into redoing this apartment, which I will honestly probably leave as soon as I do.
It’s like those dreams where everything is just so normal that you would swear it’s real life, until you find the one thing that doesn’t fit, and then comes that awestruck, almost terrified feeling as you realize that so many things that you thought did make sense actually don’t, and eye everything about your day with quiet suspicion until you just give the fuck up and go with it, ask your ex if he actually called, realize that the friends you called are actually dead, and that you never actually took the laundry out of the dryer this morning