As I sit

and it seems like everything is a rushing around, a wind tunnel that flings shit, flings pianos at me like they were made of balsa wood, the little sentences that people hand to me feel like the pelt of a piece of sand in a roaring desert storm. I cannot hear what you are saying; why are contributing to this?

I have to pull my head over the surface of the rushing water to understand what you're saying. No, I fucking heard what you said, I just don't know what it means. What's that? Oh. My day was fine. Thank you for asking. It is so hard to sound sincere when only most of me actually is.