It isn’t something that is coming normally, but I am now thinking that I need to move.  I can’t be here much longer without something being strange.  I can’t get past the feeling that there is someone or something moving over me.  Something that is a feeling of someone looking over your shoulder from across a room.  Which is strange, because i can’t remember being in a room.  Or other people.  I have memories of them all, i know so many things about so many people, but I can’t remember any of them really.

All the same, everything feels like i am being watched all the time.  Like someone is seeing every part of my body, and yet, i know i am alone here in this room.  There has to be something here where I can find a mirror or look at something other than the ceiling and the walls.  I can’t keep my head still can I?  Can i even move my head.  How can i know so many things, and see so many thoughts without moving at all.  Everything seems locked in my head, and I know i have a body, and all things around me seem to log into me and register a impact.  At the same time, i know i haven’t moved my head in years.  At least it seems so.

This day seems more disjointed than most.  I can’t seem to remember my dreams, I can’t seem to remember much of anything useful today.  I have so many thoughts of heat and movement.  Wind that I remember, and can seem to remember the feeling of my hairs moving in the wind.  I can’t understand though why my thoughts are so scattered today.  I came to remember smells that I can’t smell any more.  I can remember how flowers felt in my fingers and smelled in my nose, and yet, i can’t remember the last flower i saw.  And were the flowers real?  Were they from a store with added scent to make sure that we knew that they were flowers?  Is there a job where someone raises flowers, and can’t smell them any more.  There must be millions of workers growing flowers that they will never have in their house. Would you even see the colors after a while.  Are they reduced to numbers and tasks.  Do you just end up seeing propagation figures that tell them how many cuttings they can grow from each leaf.  would we buy flowers if we saw how they were grown, how they were divided and how they were made to be machines of life.  Why have we reduced everything to machines.  Why are we turning living systems into machines, or is this what we are at this point.  Is that something that I am at this point?  A machine for remembering flowers, and how they smell and how the wind blows. Maybe that is what I have been reduced to as well.  A memory machine, a storage device for things that have already happened and passing those thoughts on to someone who is still moving.