Tuesday, October 16, 2007


The stories are gone.

Since I was very young, I would tell myself wonderful, wild,
long and elaborate stories. To help myself fall asleep. Whenever
I was bored. When I was daydreaming. When I was driving or walking
along. The stories were always there, and always better than
real life.

I noticed lately that there aren't any more stories. I just
fall asleep. I don't daydream. I wake up and think about
work, and how I'm going to get everything done.

It seems so empty without the stories. Where did they go?
Why did they go? It is too quiet in my head.

The stories were so strong and vivid, I had a theory that if
I told them hard enough, they were a force of their own.
That some of the magic would creep into the real world,
and more interesting things would be created in my life.
Sometimes it did seem that it was true. But now?

Life has been kind of tough and down. Give me back my stories!

I miss them.

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