Capturing fleeing moments early Saturday morning

My notebook is in my backpack. I do not have the energy to trail the pen across the page. It takes remarkably a lot more energy to write out everything as you would like to say it on here. Easier I guess it is to write in this format.

Dear self,

How have we been doing?

Love

self

Gee. That is a hard question to answer. I feel like I am so caught up in the whirring spinning of everything. Home and school and just getting to ride the bus alone is something I haven't yet been able to fully assimilate into my life. It's like it didn't happen, that nothing happened even though the glaringly obvious is "duh, it really did." I think my internal monologue voice might be part valley girl.

My palms smell like oranges, my fingertips smell like oranges even though I've washed my hands a number of times. I have eaten a lot of oranges today. I'm not sure if it's unhealthy to eat a lot of them.

I feel like a plastic tupperware container. No one asks a plastic container how it feels. It just holds a lot of other things. I am a big tupperware container that has been emptied for a very very long time. I don't know how I feel. I feel slightly disconnected from everything inside of me. It is hard to describe fully, but it's not a bad feeling.

I will describe it later.