Journal Entries

I haven't written in such a long time that I have practically forgotten how to. How shall I begin then? Do I describe my surroundings? The weather perhaps? I am in the city of Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the month of February. Take a wild guess what the weather would be like. By the way, just curious, who am I speaking to? Why am I using this narrative tone? I can hear myself speak these words inside my head, only I sound like an old British man. My goodness! Is my conscience an old British man? Maybe. That's probably where I get my sense of humour from. It's still snowing, but milder now, like I'm inside a snow-globe. Just realized my writing looks crammed. The words look like THEY ARE SCREAMING. Painful to read I bet, you tell me. Also, my conscience just changed her voice. Yes, it's a she, and her name is Bertha. Bertha adores cats (a bit too much if you ask me). The snow is falling almost vertically now. No breeze. The sky is a mix of blue, orange, pink and grey. Are you still there? Not much of a talker are you? What is cold? not exactly a thing is it? You're basically measuring the absence of heat. Never have anything flavoured with garlic right before bed. Yes, it might ward away those vampire bats, but at the cost of your insides burning. I'll take the bats, Thanks. The quality of my writing is depreciating, so I should end this here. A good writer should know when to stop. As a matter of fact, a good anybody should know when to stop.