Lost at Sea

I am such a space cadet that I went to my blog right now thinking I hadn't written today and really should before bed.

Time.

Memory.

One of my neighbors was standing outside my gate when I came back from The Mall and I wasn't sure if he was the person who has lived above me for the last seven months or the new guy I haven't met yet. People all look the same, a thousand times worse when I'm fuzzy. Is this what crazy feels like? Does this count as crazy? Should they take another look at my brain scans? I still have the CD. Maybe a chunk of my brain is made out of sponge cake.

Ugh. I'm having the flasheys. I keep thinking I see lighting or a camera flash somewhere outside my window in my peripheral vision. It drives me crazy when there's the possibility that the flash happened in reality and it's not just my brain misfiring. Breathe, Annabell. I've set my life up so I can swim through these day like a pro. I feel like I swam the English Channel against my will but made it to the other side and felt the sun on my face and the warmth of human contact as dried off with towels in two shades of blue. Now I want to stay in the sunny and warm forever and only swim in my jacuzzi, but I find myself back under icy waves and I have to use those muscles I worked so hard to build up and then wished so hard to abandon forever.