I don't get myself at all. Here I am at 5 o'clock, just finished writing this thing I started at 4AM. My eyes have been hurting since 10-ish and yet, somehow, I manged to write this. Probably because I did this with my eyes half closed. I've been feeling all sorts of inspiration lately and I really don't have much to show of it. I can't even begin to channel it. So frustrating. Which probably spawned this monster story that I actually finished. It makes no sense. I'm doing this half-asleep. My stomach hurts. It makes no sense, I just decided to screw with everything and write until I got to the end. And this is the end. Even if it is, dear Palette, I did you no Justice as I cannot do myself any. Screw with it. I shall post this up for my own reading pleasure when I can think and afterwords it shall probably be banished in it's inanity, it's triviality, it's dismal banality.

( blargh )