There’s a point between when the manic in me has begun to sleep and the coffee starts to fade out, in which I begin to wonder if I am whole myself, or if there is another simply switching seats with me when the time comes for it.
These fluctuations in the way the posts read, from the serious to the ridiculous, are only surface level reflections of how my conscious and subconscious operate in tandom with one another. And while both are me in the literal sense, in the metaphysical, it’s as if there are two versions, one from a period of time where I was not so cautious, and who I am now.
Overly cautious. Paranoid. Antisocial on some levels. Curious. I wish to return to those happier days, but in my present surroundings, it seems that will take a longer time then will be naturally afforded me.