Last night my family returned from a druggy trip. Sister sat around telling me about all the crazy times, her feet had huge blisters from dancing too much with bad shoes and all. Interesting the human need to share experience. With people, or telling them about it. And then, when one realizes the innate need, they realize they can't. Because they just sit there smiling, wishing they could say it all

So normally I'd tell you to go do something with yourself. Well, you should do that. But you're obviously not listening if you're still reading this so I'll have to talk to myself. I really aught to stop wasting my time talking sign language with the blind. I should stop wasting precious time while following the idea that by wasting time we prolong it because we're not really using it so maybe we'll be able to use it later when we actually have something to do with ourselves. Really, time only dies faster with time

I realized this was bloated. I've come to write bloatedly. Not just a stream, but chunks of ugly bloat. I must learn to sheath what I once sheathed naturally. It is but a thing in life that we decay from where we once stood