I Promise I'm Not Drunk

And this was EPIC............................................................................................... FAIL.  The words blip blop on the blog or the page or the scrap and people stare.  They know you're completely odd: THERE IS NO TURNING BACK.  Then there's white stuff on the ground that's fallen out of the sky, and you wonder, "Is it snow or bloody ash?"

It makes no sense, and there's no point to how the thing is spaced.


                              IT JUST IS.


When you wake up from a dream where you're marrying someone you know, like, but really don't love, and it's just awkward, because the last thing you see is the guy you love looking at you like, "What the *(&#@&$^(@) are you doing?"

Really, IT thinks that IT is going to write a book someday, and it'll be all good,
                                           when the thing at the end of the parallel universe* looks at the product, and says, "This is now the law of the universe across and down three universes from us."

Which, in all, has fallen in love with the nonsense that makes up the universe, and jumps through the loops that create reality that people call sense.  And yes, that makes sense... to me.

WHEN YOU KNOW THAT DEATH THINKS IN ALL CAPS, AND IS CAPABLE OF IT. ASK TERRY PRATCHETT.

Bounce it, because we stand on an earth that spins into a vast nothingness, and tell me that I can't think like this and understand myself, because I can.  

Overly much, this is why my english teachers hate me.

I should remember not to write my way in most classes,

because it takes a very special person to appreciate

THIS AWESOMENESS.

Like Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams.

*Which we all know is just rubbish.  The thing at the end of the universe sits on a rock that tumbles through nothingness and enjoys floppy fish.