Another day of thinking and another day of looking toward an uncertain future full of likelihoods and probabilities.

I sit here and I feel as though I slip into my own dreams. Maybe I will end up in my own dreams and the world will twist away and contort and become something that I recognise, but only in terms of vague forms. It will become another image; a reflection of something that should be but is not.

I think that that might not be a good thing to experience. I think that I’d rather remain here and remain in this time of uncertainty as that is what I know and that is what I can work with, and I’d rather work with that if I can. There are worse things, sure, but here is where home is and I’d rather be at home than somewhere that makes sense in a way that does not make sense.

I can sit here and look at the clouds and think of hope and desire, but I could do that elsewhere too. Still, here is where I feel I am in a form of reality and so here is where I want to be.

There is a vague spread of clouds across the sky and the sky is unrelentingly bright. Suggestions of blue seep in here and there but mostly what I see is a vast uniform whiteness that glows much more than it should because it’s too bright and it hurts the eyes and so I should probably stop looking at it.

Maybe I can pretend that it doesn’t exist and put it out of my head, but then it might enter into this other reality that I’ve made real somehow and then I’ll have to deal with it there, but if it existed there that might make too much sense for the reality and then when that happens it might start collapsing in on itself, and what do I do then? Where do I go from there?

Here was this whole reality that I was able to create through mysterious circumstances and somehow it was able to be taken out by the existence of clouds. Not clouds existing in proximity to it, but clouds existing in it. I don’t know what to think about that and, to be honest, I don’t think I will spend much time thinking about it as there’s not much I can do.

On the plus side I won’t have to worry about that other reality anymore, but now there are no clouds here and there is no rain and so somehow the clouds need to be restored and it’s all just a mess. It’s a mess of large proportions and now there needs to be something done about it and so I guess there is no being comfortable here anymore because somehow the clouds stuffed up the whole thing and now more needs to be done before it all gets out of hand.

Pretty silly stuff, really.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:05:04

I was doing alright in terms of writing speed until near the end as I had four words left and couldn’t think of anything. In terms of writing something even suggesting substance… I don’t know. I think the idea of what came through whilst I was writing is okay, but this lacks anything beyond that.

Written at home.