Faux Existence December 21, 2002 - 5:30 p.m.

It's all cloudy. Every moment. Even this one.

I've been in somewhat of a daze the past few days. I don't know where I am, what I'm doing, or why I'm here.

It must be a dream.

You know, one of those dreams that you have, then remember later and totally think it happened in real life. Was it merely a dream or a memory of an actual moment in time?

I look back to five minutes when I may have been doing dishes or playing Animal Crossing, and I have to stop and think 'Was I dreaming that?' Something so simple and trivial, yet I still can't see it for what it is.

It's cloudy. It's all cloudy.

Surreal.

This would make complete sense had I been going through something tragic. A car accident, a natural disaster, devastating news.

But that's simply not the case.

I've done nothing other than mundane activities.

Yet I feel all fake inside.

I don't know where my words are. I guess I've lost them in the brain fog.

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