The Odd One

by Rie

My stress levels have turned me into a slightly brainless, slightly batty person.

I am writing this slowly because it’s taking me time to get words out.

I maintain that it’s my brain. It is between trying not to be fried on stress and being fried on destressing, instead.

God knows how much TV I’ve force fed myself. It is a poor addiction. But I can’t read while typing notes and the main point is to finish the notes, by hook or by crook.

See how I have resorted to saying things like ‘by hook or by crook’? I just want things to fall in place and rhyme.

It makes me think that the main point of life is to escape unscathed. I want to elucidate in a way I can understand but can’t (because I don’t). All I know are the feelings of wanting to run. I want to run so, so bad.

I don’t really have a purpose. I don’t know if I ever had one.

So, what the heck am I running from?