Bullets to the Head

I am pursued by new problems, friends.

Because I lost my brain to last night, I shall bullet point. I attempted to write a clever, complex introductory sentence a second ago, but after staring at the letters for 5 minutes I realized it was nonsense. Simplicity, for now, is dear to me.

Alors, my problems are as follows:

-I can only think in bullet points.

-I can only restate the obvious.

-I would like food, but my stomach does not want food.

-I am meeting too many people at an alarming rate.

-Each conversation alters me, and I can’t write them all down.

-It hurts me when I cannot do this.

-I want soup but I think Erika made pasta.

-I’m getting really distracted in these bullet points.

-Anyway I never got around to telling you the people I met at that French party.

-But now I’m going out so much that new people are arriving.

-Even for like, 3 seconds.

-Or better yet, 30 minutes.

-Like that French boy who took me for a ride on his handlebars last night.

-No, that’s not some sexual coding. I was walking with my friends to a club and he rides up and says “Hop on! Really, it’s fun I’ll show you. It’s safe” and he looked nice so I did.

-I lost my friends for a little bit after that.

-Remembering that problem reminded me that these bullet points were initially about problems.

-Problem: I want to tell you more  about The Bicyclist Who Made Me Feel Unimportant and That Is In and of Itself Quite Important….but I’m stuck in bullet points and Erika is calling that the pasta is ready.

-A problem: I really would have preferred soup.

-A problem: I should sleep before I tell you that story anyway.

-A problem: I keep writing ‘a problem’.

-Goddamn it, I really want my brain right now.

It’s cracking, I can hear it. My brain I mean. I’ll get back to you, but I think it’s important I did this, because nothing exalts the future highs like the cringing feeling of peeking back at a past low.

Except sleep it off, of course.

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