"You are something else aren't you?"
A curious window all blue and bright. She would look up at me with inquisitiveness to such an extent that I could feel her questionings pulse through me, through fixated shallow blood. In the mornings she would ask me to close the blinds, we would stare through stunted light; being uncovered would always be out of the question. If I was to lift the window that was littered to heaviness by the dust of each stale morning, I would grasp out accross the roof and swing the pure clarity of the clouds back inside and over her naked face.
"I can't help you."

God Forbid...

I should walk out of this room with no make-up on. A halloween worthy complexion and the constant loosing battle to hide it is becoming very tiresome. This is potentially reasoning for me being awake at 2.30am after retiring (party animal) at around eight o'clock. Since 'the move' it has become so much more apparent that when I interact with people I constantly feel like I am intellectually inadequate, and yet when I try to educate myself by working (as I have been doing since getting up at about 1am) I feel completely bland and mechanical; clockwork words I will assume I picked up at some point in a lecture where we are supposedly not spoon-fed.

I drew a picture for this.
It is offensively shit, but it is still a shame that it didn't get it's five minutes- even if they were to be nothing but appriciative mockery.

Fire alarm this morning at seven, why do it?
It was about as necessary as this blog.