jynxed's Diaryland Diary

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Touch of Grey

So,

I woke up this morning. That was my first mistake.

It's only 9:30 and I know my day is going to be bad. I look out the tiny window here at work and the trees outside are peppered with some kind of psychosomatic static. I don't know how many images per second your eyes normally pick up, but I'm running at about half that. It's like my perception has become a strobe light in reverse, taking in flashes instead of offering stilted illumination. My brain is receiving information in a stutter. Stuttering intake.

That would be bad enough, but everything is also so lifeless. The colors of the world are all shades of gray. The green trees are now a pale grayish green. Dead. It's like waking up in Kansas after being in Oz. And you were there, and you were there... The world, once clear and vibrant, is now dark and dull. Dusty.

One step behind.

I'm seeing the world that was before. A few seconds behind you. The world described so wonderfully in Stephen King's The Langoliers, only to be destroyed so horrendously in the ABC miniseries.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I'm cold, but hot.

I may be sick, or it may just be the retransitioning back into the normal everyday life that I loathe so much after a wonderful trip into the mountains for the weekend.

Our office feels awful. The air feels like God ate bad Mexican food last night and filled our building with a nasty fart. I'm glad I'm unable to smell. It's hot, humid, moist, sticky, and just plain gross. Thick.

My desk is a pile of unfinished reports, data, mundane monkey shit. Eek eek.

I'm tired. I hope I'm still asleep and when I wake up, the world will be a better place.

For you, and me.

La la la.

The best way to describe my existence right now: My life seriously needs to clear it's throat.

It's dark in here...we could die.

10:07 a.m. - July 9, 2001

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