It's blurring. In my head, all these walking dreams, these moments of vulnerability in which the outside world seeps in and I hesitate on the threshold of something new.
There's so much I should be working on, so many memories to archive, faces to connect with names and half-remembered scenes, facebook wall posts I've left un-liked, erstwhile songs spewing forth from my mouth in the deep cold of night.
Last night was a good night, a wondrous, spinning affair.
But now it's Saturday and reality is bustling all about me.
Lamont. Writing. Homework.
I'll take nocturnal memories over sunlit ones anytime.
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