I WOULD ENJOY SLEEP. I TRULY WOULD.

After the last few days, one can only assume that this is where my brain should rightfully be...

MURPHY SNORES, AND I AM RESTLESS. LIFE IS INCREDIBLY EQUITABLE.

I cannot wrap my mind around the things that spurt out from my heart. Never have I been able to, and the future does not indicate any sudden change in direction (whether positive or negative).
I ache for so many differing things in this world. I wonder if people genuinely recognize that or simply find me to be a scattered mess of a being. Regardless, what hold should their opinions place upon me?

[Editor's Note: There's a part of me that breaks whenever Murphy sinks his unthinkably sharp teeth into my hand. The rationalist inside me stands incredibly aware of the fact that he means nothing by it, yet my emotional core is flimsy, convincing me that I am simply a pathetic and useless chew-toy to him. So, not incredibly useless. Merely pathetic. A much nicer scenario, I suppose.]

[Editor's Note to the Note: It's been a mother-effing long time since an Editor's Note. If I do say so myself. Which I do. Suck it, Trebek.]

There were days previous to this one when I could not cease the banter that scrolled through my brain. On a daily basis, one might fear actual words pouring from my eye sockets; they would dribble down my face, laced with quippy commas and inappropriately long sentences that might seem endless in their miserable quest for greatness mashed up next to literary unorthodoxy. Much like that one. My moments of self-indulgent conversation have not ceased (neither outside of my head via speaking aloud or scribbled on loose-leaf: the college ruled era), but they seem to deposit themselves in a much more infrequent and (undeniably) restricted manner. Is it adult-hood and its multiple layers of adult-y taboo that have quashed my desire to beguile my own presumptuous brain with erratic thoughts, or is it a self-imposed exile to a world where shutting down and ignoring that which propagates inside my lobes is totally okay, dude?
Four lttr wrds seem dumb. ToMe. Noww.

And...I have reverted back to that mind of a twelve-year-old. Ignorant, dispirited, and (luckily for this particular brand of Kelley) as incredibly self-righteous as any adolescent should ever dare to be.

Disgusting. Or, maybe just a step away from that. Yet to be determined, I suppose.
I suppose far too much. Maybe I should just decide every once in a while.
Maybe.
Gah.

MORNING. THIS MORNING, IN PARTICULAR.

I might, very easily if I do say, sleep for eight days at a time. The length of days in this example is quite insignificant, so long as it justifies my enormity of exhaustion. Why such exhaustion? That, dearest no-one, I cannot fathom.
I am incredibly aware that I should be readying myself in preparation for class this morning, but...
No. Not-so-much. I will attend, but that will likely be the extent of my participation. Too much has elapsed in the past seven weeks that has assured me of my minor educational success to have me fretting over the last two days of review and blather.
And now, I really have to leave. Truly. Genuinely.
I don't care.

CLICK, CLACK.

It is indeed a charming sort of feeling to look back and graze over old lives, stories, moments, memories. The egregious span of time between that which was present then and that which is present now brings out the literary longing in me. Life, I daresay, overstepped my anecdotal mind, leaving it tired and festering by itself, unwilling to scrape together three minutes of typing and wit and cynicism.
I seek to change that, I think.
Life and all of its many-faceted components have left me...speechless.