Post Realism Extraction.

A random nonsensical fictional diary, because post realism is rooted in realism.

VIII I, MMXXII

Sometimes I sit in the office and imagine my feet stuck in a swamp. Sticky, dirty, ugly. I enjoy the dusty molecules intertwining with my skin, a strangulation I cannot get out.

Only when feet are trapped can the mind travel. I had actually slept for 4 hours last night, sitting up with bright lights turned on to slap a noisy big-mouth mosquito. I just had to do it, or my mind would not be able to rest.

My therapist said emotions are 100% physicalized. Well, pain physicalized is easier to deal with. Unlike me who writes nonsense with mind gliding at a 4pm Monday. How can you solve something like that. You can’t suck it up or stick it out.

Stairs, I had a cup. 4 hours can give you that much.