2 times 2 is four.

It offends me that I can’t write like I used to.  This kind of drab colloquial was reserved for my livejournal; I always tried to write pretty prose here.   Eloquence, it turns out, is not something to be taken for granted.  It comes and it goes.  Perhaps I have not used it enough, and it has deteriorated like any other skill.  The absence of the running commentary in my head is not something I thought I’d miss.  But the commentary was my creativity, and I am fast approaching the empty deserts of mediocrity.  God forbid.

I find it worrisome, the number of wounds I have that I cannot account for. 

Sleep is something that avoids me.  Do I smell?  Probably.  I never knew sleep was that shallow.  Oh wait.  I miss the nights of guilt-free sleep I used to get, 8 hours of bliss…

God I’m tired.