I was writing and writing and I got trapped...
My life, the real and beautiful world is just behind those thin walls around me, as thin as a cover of a comic Book but so impossible to get through them...
...life is so unrealistic and time passes in a mysterious way...
Even if I somehow manage to teleport myself to the real world I seem to not fit in...
Because of isolation my social skills seem outdated and almost everything I say seem awkward and inappropriate...
I find myself standing there saying something to people and hearing myself making meaningless burr of aaa yyyy ooo uuu
Amount of coffee and chocolate (and I am actually allergic to chocolate) I eat is difficult to comprehend and I strongly believe my skin has changed color to a bit more chocolatish or lets admit it to a boring grayish shade.
And all those crazy sick things I dream... I could write a Sci-Fi book if I only remembered them longer than those few seconds after waking up.
Basically the moment my brain creates a thought that it was a crazy dream my memory about it is gone or back to apparently some part of my brain that for reasons probably of sanity I am not allowed to access unless I sleep.
Anyway... I have one more month of this craziness :)
