20:16 - I stare out the window at a brick building. It isn't very tall. As my eyes trace its length to the the top and stop, I have an instant image of myself falling off it. In poetic, slow motion. I land with a "splat!" on the concrete. There is a splatter of blood as my head hits the hardness with a crunch. I smile. Then I conclude I am fucking crazy.
The predominant feeling is one of despair, and being trapped.
20:50 - I am tucked in bed under a duvet, wearing pajamas, drinking delicious white wine, and watching football while cradling sleepy loveliness in my free arm. Despite the fact that I know there is work to be done once the match is over, the predominant feeling is light, and of things being just right.
These two are parallel universes within which I exist. Usually, I forget the latter while in the former, but am unable to do vice-versa. Maybe when I reach vice-versa, the former will implode.
