December 14, 2020
Memories crowd one another for space, their edges trimmed and broken. These pieces are fragments of something that may have been once. Or they may have been vapor drawings of a febrile mind. Did they even exist? Did they exist anymore than we, the exhalations of a febrile god ourselves? I am up again at 4:30, at 3:30 and no, I am not tortured. I am in tune with my body and mind. I resonate with myself. I am solid, and I exist. I will always have once existed even as the flames of a shattered reality flutter into void.