Skipping in and out

My brain is in a weird place. There's so much going on and so much changing that I wasn't really expecting but am not really surprised by. The degree to which I talk to my mother is... odd. And the degree to which she does not judge/does not freak out is also slightly odd, perhaps, looking at it objectively, but since she's my mom... not so odd. After all, I'm not the one smoking pot, and she trusts that I won't be.

The reason I haven't been writing much of anything lately is that I have nothing to say. All the words I get are from other people.

I think that's why I like reading so much. I can fill up my head with other people's words; it saves me the trouble of coming up with my own.