So I was going to post a sequel to my last post regarding decisions about friendships, but I am not in the mood. Maybe tomorrow. Right now, I am going to talk about me.
I am a freak.
Not just in bed, mind you, but a freak of nature. I seriously wonder what ramifications and repercussions would be bestowed upon any psychologist you attempted to analyze me. Personally, I think they’d cry. I have that effect on people, and it is not always intentional.
What I mean by stating that I am a freak is that I wonder about shit that I am confident will never happen. This shit keeps me up at night, even though there is no logical explanation for this to bother me. As an example, I wonder how my mind would work if it were in someone else’s body. Would I still be me? Would I still like tea and redheads? And more importantly, would I still wonder if I was a freak or not?
I spent an hour today wondering how I would look if I was short. I am six foot fucking two, I will never be short, but still I wonder, as if my height might have made a difference in my pursuit of women or clothing or money or fame or noodles. I need help. I always blame my lack of sleeping ability (my whole life I have averaged maybe 4 hours a night at most) on the fact that I drink tea. Well, I don’t put sugar in it and I don’t usually drink it at night, so that only leaves one possible explanation; my freakish brain is pondering freakish shit.
Maybe I need help. Maybe I need sleeping pills. Maybe I need a concubine to help me sleep so that I wouldn’t need the sleeping pills. Maybe I’m just a freak.
And that is why road cones are orange.
There’s someone in my head, but it’s not me