I find the more I sit in the screaming silence of this reclusive state I've recently become just the best of friends with, the longer I'll be able to feel like this. It's curious, really. Like I'm awake, but not, watching myself watch myself. It's a pretty intense feeling, and is hard to describe. Like it's just me, and everyone else are robots, on someone's twisted idea of an off road tourist attraction.

The kind you'd rather avoid, for fear of some Hillbilly, who is the proud product of a fourth generation of inbreeding, rape you to death then sling your torn remains tastefully next to the Lilacs his Grandma-sister planted last week.

I'm just kind of spilling the contents of my mind into this, so that my DA isn't completely dead. I'd like to update it with some of my recent art, but I can't seeing as how I'm at Nina's and there's no scanner to be had, let alone any of my little sketchy projects.

I'm afraid I'm losing myself, I need something to do with my mind, writing-wise. I used to be so ridiculously boss at it, RPing Paragraphs years ago when now I can's even spill out a proper description to save myself. It's maddening. I need to get it back, methinks.

I miss the internet, not having it is killing me softly, I have my phone to text my Marc with, yes, but I find it hard to keep so very interested when conversation isn't as instant as... well.. Instant messaging, and then I feel terrible because all I can do anymore is sleep, because I'm bored to tears with myself, vacuuming and tidying up my living room like a billion times a day, then watching random bullshit on the television.

I am quite loving this amazing little ramble I'm having here. I miss doing this, perhaps when I get home I'll just type out madness and post it the serendipitous moment I get my internet back, after an amazing reunion with my perfectly pixelated better half.

I think, I'm going to quietly enjoy me some television while Nina sleeps, I can't during the night so much, anymore, though I should while there's an actual bed available to me.

All l I do anymore is flip flop all over my couch bed, which is an evil genius. It lulls you into a false sense of super comfy for about... long enough for your arms to fall asleep RIGHT BEFORE YOU YOURSELF FALLS ASLEEP. Makes me so angry.

Gonna try sleeping on the other couch a while, before moving back to the abusive, but loving, relationship I share with my couch. Make it jealous and want me back for a while before it beats me away. Ehe. Ramble ramble.