I’ve been melting into the couch. Sliding around my brain looking for way out because if the present is the only thing in life with no ending then I am swimming in unlimited fiction. I’ve got two different voices coming out of my mouth, one screaming love forever, one crippling doubt. The life in my head vs the one on the ground, the sound of my voice from the top out pouring down. The people I talk to talking back out loud about waking up early and late lights out, about drinking too much and campfire rounds, about missed opportunities and long flights in the atmosphere. Life is happening on the borders of sleep, under little silver screens and I’m waking up, stuck to the ceiling looking down at my dreams.