It’s the Crazy Ones That Have the Good Pills

Seriously, I’m convinced I’m losing my mind. Really. I don’t even feel like myself. I can’t write, I don’t sleep, but everything gets cleaned til it shines. And then I mess it up again, because how perfect everything looks bothers me.

I remember junior year at Howard, feeling the same way, not sleeping, cleaning all the time, not wanting to be touched, not wanting to talk to anyone, distracted, feeling restless all the time. It’s strange, really.

Honey and I (my new puppy, pics to come soon) are laying on the couch. Here’s where we’ll be if you need us.

Forever.

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