Did I even sleep?

I don’t know. The only evidence is the memory of a pair of RayBan Wayfarer sunglasses, which makes me think this memory was really a dream because I never wear the Wayfarer pair anymore, so it stands to reason that I wouldn’t have been thinking about them except in some fabulous manner, which dreams sometimes are.

I still like the look of Wayfarer sunglasses, but the tiny screws that keep the ā€“ do they call them arms? ā€“ work themselves loose, which I suppose is fine, but it erodes my confidence in not only the eyewear, but in myself as well. There seems to be a correlation: the looser the hinge of the arms, the skulkier I become. I slouch and am indecisive.

I have a meeting at school today. I don’t want to go. I have to go.



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