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NS1.23.13.16 
kin 200 
sick day
The past is an unusual thing. It dances before me like a passing shadow. I fall into memories experiencing my life once again. It's almost like dreaming. Only real. At least, it was real, at one point in time.
Though recently the line between my dreams and memories has been blurring. I recall memories like a dream and remember dreams like memories. I use this to my story-writing advantage right now, but I can't help but wonder... why this shift of thinking in my mind? Or was it already there and I'm just now noticing?
It sounds poetic, like something from a fairy-tale. But it's not. It's real. And that's where the confusion sets in. It changes the way I perceive the world.
I suppose fact really is stranger than fiction. Because at least in fiction we can understand the world.