Inundated.

So, my last post was mostly just for my own purposes, not really anything informative or interesting or, who am I kidding, when am I ever either of those things?

SFKhldsfkhfmmehh. I love the sound my fingers make on laptop keys. It's a click but not a sharp click; softer, sporadic and thoughtful. There is definately something to be said about sharp leaden pencils and writing on beautifully thick paper - journaling in, perhaps, its true form - but I feel so much more productive on a computer. I still miss having mine, piece that it was. I'm also still upset because basically every.. anything of writing I did that year is still stored on the hard drive, and it's broken probably beyond repair. Although, with my compulsive editing, I'm sure I would think everything on it was trash now anyway.

And I'm making small talk with myself, which means there's something hidden in my mind that apparrently my subconscious doesn't want to broach right now.. but too bad, inner Kelsey. Personal demons have no room to breathe when they're locked up inside you like this.

(Is anyone else nervous that I'm talking to myself like this? Anyone?)

Maybe how I'm sick of having a one-track mind. Or maybe not a single track, but double sided. Both cannot simultaneously exist and play. Which also is not helpful.. making the conscious effort to switch thought processes is like getting up to take out the mix tape he made out and put in something else. Worth the effort, eventually, but so hard to do.

I'm not jealous. I swear, I'm happy (that she isn't very cute) for you.