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shiny objects

Tuesday, June 15, 2004


Today I had the strangest sensation - it seemed that everyone around me was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, created to fill-in a fictional cene from the recesses of my brain. My world ceased to be real. Everything was shrouded in plasic, infused with cartoon colors, distant and sterile, mechanical, contrived. In a room full of people, I sat alone. My actions seemed to orginate from an intelligence beyond my own psyche. My nerves seemed like they were made of sugar syrup and play doh. The feeling stayed with me all evening, and even into the night. Am I dreaming?


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