It's been quite a while.

What do you say when there is so much to say?

Really I'm just about contemplating how dream like life is. Was it the Hindus or Buddhists that said that life is another dream state? It feels like that, doesn't it? I feel like all the little things are just buzzing bees around my head, I can tune them in or tune them out. What's real is my writing. What's real is whether or not I have a house to live in. What's real is John. And even these things are in a dream state most of the time. John becomes upset about something small, I tell him all that matters is that we are here with each other, at this time in place. It's true yes? Yesterday is a memory and the future hasn't happened.

Still my favorite thing is to think about the future. If you aren't satisfied with who you are in the present, the future dreaming is the favorite pasttime of you. And that's me.  I think I'm too hard on myself, but as I wrote that sentence there my world became small and magnified--as if I caught some truth.

Why am I not happy with myself in the present? What can I do to change that?
Right now, I should be eating an orange, not smoking.
I should be listening to my favorite music
I should be opening windows to the world.
I should be writing.


I just realized I've close myself from myself. But why am I so scared to be who I am?

I'm letting myself die.