Now nothing is real
2003-05-14 || 7:34 p.m.

It was the weirdest thing walking to work this morning. I began to feel like a walking shell. Just a pair of eyes. No substance, nothing. It felt like all the people passing me were real, with real clothes and real jobs and real lovers and real lives and I was just a spectator, a spectre. I began to be fascinated by them. How do they do it? How do they live a real life? Its not something I will ever experience.

This sense of dislocation is killing me.