Each and every thought, vision, concept, idea, that sprouts from the depths of my awaking conscious, to my slumbering head, consuming my thoughts with a distorted twinge of the unique- yet dark information, lain within this lone journal.
I can't tell what's a dream and what's real.
It seems like all my memories are... surreal.
I can't remember how long it's been since I've felt down to earth.
I can feel the ground, but I can't feel my limbs.
I can trace this very same feeling back to my birth;
The chances of me pulling from that same feeling is slim...