Excerpts Of A Madman
1. My eyes popped open around three this morning. I laid here for an hour in the dark, staring at the slope in the picture hanging on my wall, watching the shadows dance around them. I got my feet on the floor around four. I sit on the edge of the bed in the dark staring out of the small hole of a window, looking to see your face in the moon.
2. My memories are most precious to me. They define me. I have nothing else. They define my personality, my creativity. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They're mine, good or bad.
3. If my brain chooses not to remember some things, it is only trying to protect me from myself. I am sorry for all of the bad things I've done, for all the pain I've caused. I just don't know how to say it.
4. I never feel like doing anything anymore. I'm always worn out. It's not the depression, I know when that hits me. For some reason, I have to force myself to do everything, from getting out of bed to eating, from writing, to painting.
5. Vegetable peelers, grapefruit spoons, ice cream scoops, bunt pans, French presses, turkey basters, egg slicers, coffee grinders, waffle makers, pizza wheels
2021 sep 22
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2021 jun 10
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2021 jun 8
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2021 may 22
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2021 may 22
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2021 may 22
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