i have been sitting on the floor without any clothes, my eyes looking but not seeing. they are trained upon this white screen and i find i have no words that want to flow through these finger tips that mean a thing. these words i am typing are fillers. i am typing fillers because i want to document all my feelings and i suppose this is a feeling. it is an empty page that was once soaked, dried out in the sun. the edges are curling this way and that, the texture is unpredictable. saturated then drained, confused in what it is. it is no longer a page like the rest, flat and perfect and pressed with the others. huddled together as if unable to live without the comfort of being constantly surrounded.  you can try to flatten this page and squish it beneath the weight of a thousand others, you can try to beat it into submission but it will never go back. there will always be that corner that rolls just so slightly until it is a curve.

now i am writing and all this nonsense is spilling and i am not sure what i mean by it all. there is no point that i can think of behind these fillers, no secret hidden beneath my words that i want you to guess. it is mindless blabber and i suppose i am a sun-dried page today.

today felt like it didn't go by at all. it felt frozen all day long and when four pm finally rolled around, i was awe-struck. i did not feel relief or excitement that i could finally leave the office soon, as it felt like i hadn't been in the office at all. i was absorbed into nothing. time felt frozen yet it went on and i was an innocent bystander, watching the arms click into place repeatedly. even now as i am typing, it's seven pm and i am confused. i have not eaten much today, i am hungry, yet i do not desire food. there are things i need to do today, yet i have been sitting on my bedroom floor among it all, ignoring them whispering their demands.

i feel sort of relaxed into this strange coma-like feeling. the memories of today do not seem to exist.