Does anybody know what time it is?

I'm soul tired. I don't know what's wrong with me: the heat? The demon orb sucking my lifeblood like a celestial vampire? I can't write; I sit at the computer and am hypnotized by it's shiny newsness. I can feel Lady Depression clawing at my ankle; she has to use more violent techniques because I'm wise to her tricks now.

Maybe it's people asking me about myself. I hate thinking about who I am. "What kind of music do you like? Mary J. Blige?" What if I would have said YES! More than anything on earth! More than Destiny's Child, more than Justin Fucking Timberlake, more than whoever sings the Lady Lumps or Humps or whatever song! High school insecurities kick in: OMG, what if I say the wrong thing? My mind always goes blank when people ask me questions. Music... like? Me? I guess I am allowed to have opinions! I don't even remember what I said; I think I mentioned jazz, some Thelonious, and then I vaguely remember mentioning The Police for some strange reason. I haven't really listened to them in years, although I was quite fond once in the getting more distant past.

Sometimes I lose who I am, if I really ever existed. Sometimes I wonder.