Sprained

Wiped out. Running running running around in my head and yet nothing nothing seemingly done or taking place. I hate this feeling.

And yet things are happening. Things are taking place and things are getting done.

But I am somewhere else. Running running running running around inside my tiny little head. Hitting the walls and falling down. Repeatedly.

I hate this feeling.

Even still, there are things that are done. The bathroom is clean, at the very least.

Thanksgiving is over.

I've already bought and paid for the majority of Santa's wad.

And yet...

I'm just so lost in side this tiny box of a brain and all its contents and all its inconsistencies and constants. I keep hitting the wall and falling down.