And feeling and shit. But very seldomly do I write about actual things that happen outside of my skull.
I wish I would do that more. Vacation into reality and write an amusing anecdote or two grounded in “real life” situations and goings-on (that just will never not sound fucked up grammatically, so I’m leaving it).
But I don’t do much I guess. Or not much worth noting.
Shall soon hopefully. But… What I do and what I think very rarely connect. I have a much more vibrant and interesting and active imagination than I have real-ly. I do very little. And what I do do (heheheh) is at very best compulsory, mostly because I think it’s what I should do to make people think I am a part of society and participating in the land of the living.
I’d much rather read, thank you.