So here's me taking a break from writing to... Write.
Well, I don't know what else I expected. Writing is all I can do.
I feel a bit like I'm going insane, but I expect that's down to being sick and exhausted. My sleeping patterns are all messed up again. I am tired, but I can't sleep. I tried. I can't.
Last night I was at the window watching the snow falling and crying. I didn't remember how I got there. I'd been on the couch moments before.
An hour ago I found myself standing up, holding a plate in one had and a sandwich in the other, watching one of the cats playing with a bug it'd found. I don't remember making a sandwich.
Maybe I'm sleep walking or something.
I have this weird sensation of time passing really really slowly, but also incredibly fast. I've had it before, many times. It makes me feel queezy.
I'm writing my SRP still but it's difficult it's turning into a debate. I'm arguing with myself about Nature vs. Nurture, Savagery vs. Civilization, Good vs. Evil.
I feel young, but not in the carefree, I-have-my-whole-life-ahead-of-me (which I do) way. It's different. It's strange.
I'm sick of thinking and writing sequentially. Life isn't like that. Not really.
Have I been watching too much Ashes to Ashes?