real world

Technically I write even if it's not on paper. I write in my head. I've written in my head as long as I can recall. So much so, I used to question the quality of my brain sponge, whether it was soaking up and expelling the right stuff. I'd have long drawn out exchanges and dialogues with people. I'd play hockey, sing on stage, get the girl.

Maybe it's part of being quiet or a quiet guy, which I am only when the people who know me can't get me to shut up. This is the first time I've comtemplated that what I worried was a lack of sanity may actually be a good thing. When I'm not talking to you, telling you to get bent, hugging you or smashing my teeth off yours, I am doing just that in my head. Who needs the 'real world' when you've got this?

Sanity's so overrated.