Every morning I wake up and I spend about 5 minutes trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not. Am I really at Disney with my ex? We do not speak. Do I really have a new cellphone powered by lazers? I don’t know how that would work but it would be awesome. I mingle with people I’ve lost so casually like they have always been there and it takes time for me to realize they are not.

And then I remember. I remember that I sleep on a pile of laundry and papers and a violin that I can’t play. I remember that I have no money and I work at a job that I hate. I remember how I run around trying to write novels, and make movies, and paint, and rap, and I do these things so desperately because I’m almost out of time. So I go back to sleep.