High Pitch

Same as yesterday. Unfortunately, the only difference in today and yesterday is what's on television. Honestly.

A lost of words because of their repetition. So, how far can I take today in comparison to what it actually is. As far as I'm concerned, the days that I didn't remember couldn't have possibly happened. That same old "what if I'm the only real person" routine. It's ok, I don't think that way. I just build upon.

There was a slug on the pert of the door in my room, under the actual handle but not on the actual door itself. I let it outside. If I can remember that, then I can remember today. A lot of people claiming to have had headaches, today. Not me. Pancakes and bacon, again though.

The other day I kind of started trying out this writing of, well honestly it could only be called novel because of the style that I'm kind of automatically assuming. The title had kind of floated around for about a month at least because it's just so upfront. The Last Year Of All Time. Easy. Practice, then. I was kind of going to imagine that being in a series of a certain blatantly titled novel-types. Still, the titles might just distract the entire intention. But hey, I'm not wrong. "It's not a waste of time." Just heard that one on that tel-v. Awards.

I'll figure. Just he. Alright, good one though.