I should be in bed, as it's getting a bit late and I haven't been sleeping very well lately. No matter, I can survive on much less sleep than I've been getting. However, the deprivation has been making my hallucinations (auditory, olfactory, and visual) a bit stronger than usual. I'm used to this.
I watched a long, black snake crawl out from under my desk this evening. It sssss'ed across the floor, then under the couch. I startled, upon first glimpse of it. I always do. And I caught myself just before saying something to my mother, who was lying on the couch and is deathly afraid of slitherly reptiles. I caught myself, before voicing anything. She doesn't handle, nor acknowledge, my illness nearly as well as the other people in my life. And sometimes, I just deem it best to keep my silly mouth shut.
More water, more water. I've been drinking so much lately, I feel as if I shall turn into a puddle and squish away. Last night, I spoke to Thee Pumpkn Girl of Mister William going to India on some kind of study program. He's thinking of selling my his cello on eBay. I, of course, have been offered first dibs, though I doubt I would have the kind of money to pay for the thing. I do miss the cello. That one in particular. I spent quite some time with it. Hours upon hours of coaxing sound from it. I played with a violin bow, because that was all I had. And for a while, I only had three strings on the cello itself. Because I broke one whilst trying to tune it, then didn't have the money for about a year to replace the whole set.
I'm thinking of cutting all my hair off again. Bobbing it to just under my chin. It's getting quite long again, since the last I cut it off. And it's most troublesome. I had my mother cut off an inch or two of it this evening, because it was starting to look ratty. And because a man at world asked me if it was my own hair because it looked like extentions.
Yes, I was insulted.
So, it's cut. Dyed. And cut again. All that's left is to shave the undercut down again. Right now, though, I'm itching a bit because it would seem I didn't do that good of a job rinsing the dye from my hair in the shower. Most likely because I was too fascinated with the patterns the bluish-blackish water was making as it ran over my shoulders.
I can hear the people in the walls, again. Usually I can't listen to them unless I'm in bed, with total silence. But, I can hear them now. They're whispering, though I can't quite make out what they're saying.
This is a sure sign of something. Of exactly what, it remains unclear.
Maybe I should really think about medication, in the near future.
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