Do you ever randomly start the beginning of what seems like a novel?
I know the spelling is probably not all correct, as also the punctuation..

It might be a tad bit wierd that I am putting this in a journal, but I do not feel it is adequate enough for anything else.

I would also like it if you would tell me your opinion and thoughts on this.




I thought I was beginning to go blind that day. Things were starting to become blurry. I didn't know if my contacts were intricately defaced by loss of moisture or if the sun was too bright. I did not know if I was just truely going blind. I almost wanted to be blind. I would never have to see my body or see the looks on other peoples face. Although, the all too familiar tones that effect the countless ears of passerbys would hurt just as the proper glance or glare. I had evidently just exceeded my mind and bodys' motivation for staying awake. I was just exhausted. I went to bed for three hours. When I had awoken, I pretended the morning events did not take place. I'm not exactly sure if I was pretending because I did not realize that I was purposely avoiding the thoughts involving those restless moments. The definition of pretend was to make a pretentious gesture towards a claim. I was not putting forward false apprehensions. I was still a character, though. I was still in play.
As pretentious as an exaggerated side show of actors attempting to grasp their dream of becoming famous, I was looking towards my future as though my flaws were a virtue of extortious happenings. Yet this attitude was only on the outside. While inside my mind was removing the past, I was trying to create the perfect future. I had to forget about the present, also. I had to let go of a fraction of myself.