It's still morning.

Ahhhh, the return to sloth. Feels good. I slept for thirteen hours. I went to bed before ten. I woke up at six all perky and stuff. I read for a bit and figured that six was a boring time if you couldn't go grab a cappuccino. So I went back to sleep.

I sort of wish I hadn't. A wholesome eight hours with an early wake up would've felt good. Whatever, I was tired.

I cried for an hour yesterday. Tried to talk myself through it. Eventually became snotty and incoherent enough so I couldn't. Mostly just sobbed.

Had the oddest dreams last night.
Dreamed that I was riding a motorcycle through my elementary school where there was a war outside. The kids had no idea that they shouldn't stand near the windows. Two were shot. I was chewing on a stick of candy, trying to hide the fact that I'd killed someone two hours earlier. Eventually convinced myself that I couldn't be prosecuted because it hadn't actually happened. I knew this to be true, but didn't connect the fact that it hadn't happened with the fact that I was dreaming. D/n gave me a ring made of glass. It fit, but the glass was thick. It was the same colour as my stick of candy which had turned into a glass straw. D/n spoke in tongues about the gift, I could understand him in the dream, but I can't remember what was said now.


Getting a coffee. Then to the radio.