Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm not meant for the future. I'm trying. I can't quite keep up lately. It feels like someone is slowly, secretly poisoning me. Are you slowly, secretly poisoning me? I can feel the warmth of the tea I'm drinking all the way to the outside of my skin. The tea may be the antidote.

I dreamt that I was in Kansas. The Egg was there. We were lying on a very long couch, head to head. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him moving. Then the Egg was gone and I was sitting upright. There was a young boy with a bad attitude. He was the one who told me that we were in Kansas. There was a nice man wearing a brown sweater. Someone said something about Anne of Green Gables. I don't remember much else.

If I look at myself in the mirror for long enough, I can't see my whole face anymore. I try to look all the way into my eyes, to see if I can see what I'm thinking about, and then I imagine the rest of my face based on that. I like my face best that way. I think it's when I look the most like me.

I've been listening to less music lately. It's been nice, because I can't help but pay real attention to all of the non-music sounds I'm hearing. Car engines and water in pipes and the breathing of people around me. It's rough against my ears, and I like it.

So... if I just keep cramming words into this thing, will it eventually do some good? Has it?