Woke up in that blissful state you get when the world heals itself in your dreams. One of those "perfect girl" dreams. You know what I'm talking about; where everything fits, everything's perfect. They turn out to be the most frustrating thing that can happen to you in your sleep save wetting the bed. The fall to earth lasts for hours.
I don't allow myself any humanity. Contact consists of a few seconds passing in a hallway, a few stupid faces and gestures. The few times some visceral connection actually occurs, it's always cut off. So superficial. We all wear so many masks.
Watched "The Fifth Element," the cinematic equivalent of a "perfect girl" dream. These things leave me disappointed but hopeful, buzzing with half-full half-empty paradoxes and confusion.