I keep hearing Sunset City in my head. I start singing it without meaning to. I don't know why songs show up when. I've spent the last couple of hours pointlessly pushing furniture around. Now it's sort of a mess, but I'm happier in it. By the time I feel truly moved in, it will be time to go.

Just across and up from my kitchen window is a window out of which a little girl sometimes shouts. She'll poke her head out in the evenings to shout to her friends who haven't come in from playing yet, and I am so jealous. I want to live in a life where there are friends outside of my window for me to shout to. She shouts in a language I'm not sure of, and that's great too. She could be shouting anything for all I know. The only part I understand is the laughter.

I feel like a science experiment. I'm so full of wondering that I thought I might actually reach the point of asking questions. I guess maybe I did ask one, however innocuously. Sometimes everything I do feels like sticking my arm out of the window to check if it's raining because I'm scared to just open the door and walk out into it. It's so simple, really, as clear as anything. The whole thing, the way I kept thinking it was just me looking for trouble... I don't know. I'm disappointed, I guess, and I don't understand why it worked out this way, but it's better to accept it, to stop wondering and start forgetting about it. As clear as anything.

So, this monster is a monster. I tore a chapter out to give the pages some room, but, in keeping with the spirit of the whole thing, that idea was poorly thought out. It's like tearing a couple of the monster's legs off and adding peg legs that are too short. It's such a simple thing, but I'm coming to love the monster so much that I would sleep with it under my pillow if it weren't such a giant lump. I think I know better what to do with it now, anyway. Everything works out, even when it seems like it's doing the opposite of that.