I am so bored. My soul is rattling the cage doors. It wouldn’t know what to do if I freed it. I don’t think it remembers how to fly. I’m caught between wanting to stay in bed forever and wanting to run away. The iggly bits of daily routine seem irritating beyond belief. I am not pleasant.
Last night I dreamed I was pregnant. How clichéd is that? It’s like having your subconscious hand you self-extracting Jungian software. I hope I don’t have to wait nine months to find out what I’m incubating.