You are tired. Your shoulders feel stiff. Your head feels slightly heavy and foggy. The soles of your feet feel hot and painful; you want to avoid putting them on the ground even though gravity has other plans for them. It’s seven in the evening. Despite your eyelids unilaterally deciding that it’s now closing time, your brain still feels awake – high on the rush of catching Kronii’s stream at three in the morning. You ponder the nature of love. What is love, anyway? Baby don’t hurt me, yeah, we know. But still. What does it mean to “love” someone? Do you “love” Kronii? In what way?
You reconsider your position several times as you stare blankly at edition 03:37 of /∞/. You briefly consider the idea of doing the math of how many more threads are necessary to reach 13:37. Not long thereafter, you abandon the idea. You might feel awake and alert, but you’re clearly in no state for simple arithmetic.
The calm violin with a fast beat you’d put on stimulates your brain. The melody is all too familiar but that’s just what you need right now. You recall your commute this morning. Someone was blasting Queen’s The Show Must Go On so loudly from their headphones you heard it from two seats over. That guy had good taste. You wonder if Kronii likes that song, too.
You open your text editor and start typing.
“You are tired…”
“You are tired. Your shoulders feel stiff. Your head feels slightly heavy and foggy. The soles of your feet feel hot and painful; you want to avoid putting them on the ground even though gravity has other plans for them. It’s seven in the evening. Despite your eyelids unilaterally deciding that it’s now closing time, your brain still feels awake – high on the rush of catching Kronii’s stream at three in the morning. You ponder the nature of love. What is love, anyway? Baby don’t hurt me, yeah, we know. But still. What does it mean to “love” someone? Do you “love” Kronii? In what way?
You reconsider your position several times as you stare blankly at edition 03:37 of /∞/. You briefly consider the idea of doing the math of how many more threads are necessary to reach 13:37. Not long thereafter, you abandon the idea. You might feel awake and alert, but you’re clearly in no state for simple arithmetic.
The calm violin with a fast beat you’d put on stimulates your brain. The melody is all too familiar but that’s just what you need right now. You recall your commute this morning. Someone was blasting Queen’s The Show Must Go On so loudly from their headphones you heard it from two seats over. That guy had good taste. You wonder if Kronii likes that song, too.
You open your text editor and start typing.
“You are tired…””