I Like Cream Cheese

Y'know when you start hearing voices in your head, and they start writing a story for you? And then you realize that it's not a voice, it's your voice? And then you're head just starts rattling off strange phrases and random ideas, and you have to paddle your arms off just to keep your head above the rush and waves of words?

Seems to happen a lot.

My mind is so filled with ideas, so bursting with figments of blog posts, poems, riddles, and pointless phrases that somehow have a point.

And if you think that is weird, listen to what happened a few minutes ago.

Okay, so I'm doing math, right? And I look at my blog (I'm telling you, my hand just slipped to the mouse---those fingers have minds of their own), then close the window and star back at my scribbles. I start to here clicking---like the kind of clicking you hear when you mouse onto a link or something. I ignor it.

More clicking.

Finally, I look up, and I see my blog window on the screen (yes, I'm quite sure I obliverated the page).

Seriously creepy.
My computer is tempting me, and it knows I'm stuggling to avoid it's wretched clutches.

Yup. I'm paranoid.
So paranoid that I literally have the little voice in my head go into full detail about what I'm going to write for my next blog entry.

Sometimes that little voice is a whisper, sometimes it's a shout. I wonder if it's my conscious. But my conscious seems to be more of a feeling then a voice.

This doesn't make any sense, does it?
Eh, oh well. I'm just killing time before I haffta hit the books again. I think I've hit them so much I'm beginning to get Shell Shock.

I'mma in a daze.
As the daze go by...

Don't mind me, I'm just lulled out on the floor with a rank of history books attacking from every direction as I think: "This can't be what afternoons are meant for..."

Thanks for reading.