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Today I woke up to find my ankle sprained, without knowing why or how. I guess these things happen more often than you think.

Today, good ambience, good people and an email made me happy.

But I still don’t know what to do with myself. Torrents of affections keep finding their way but they detach so quickly I don’t know whether the sentiments in that fleeting transient moment is enough, they’re too much a crisis for me to handle. What a pathetic emotional downpour – do I even use these terms? It’s as though all the curiosity has leaked into a puddle and they’re trying to dilute a stiff, dense version of a soul so we can all see it on display in the museum. We can study the biomechanics that works within it, we examine the inches and latitudes of it even more than this universe so we can observe what makes us tick.

I don’t know what I want, now. Time is nothing but a separate dimension, and it’s timeless how ironic and no interferences. I don’t know why, or how, and what, and where in time, where I’ve dislocated something and it’s run off. Now I have to be Little Bo Beep looking for her sheep, clueless lost innocent

I’ve misplaced this so-called identity (if we even have one) and maybe it’s gone missing.

Missing is a funny word. Misplaced, misconduct, miss, mistake, m i s s i n g

If that’s the case, I am missing.