sick and delusional.

Speak frankly to me, will you?

I'm a little muddled. My head is full, not of useful knowledge and very wrinkly brains (You get a wrinkle every time you learn something. See? Now you have another), but more like phlegm and bricks.

My brother could solve a Rubik's Cube in 34 seconds. We timed it. I wonder how many wrinkles he had to add to his brain to be able to do that.

The phlegm in my head is easy to explain. I kissed a man the other day, a man with phlegm in his head. It was a poorly thought-out move on my part. It was a nice kiss. I suppose I'd do it again. And again.

The first time I kissed the man, well, he was more of a boy then, my head was full of phlegm that time too. I was disappointed when he didn't later get a head full of phlegm as a result of our kiss. Seems like that would provide biological proof that we had, in fact, kissed. It was a rather selfish thought.

The bricks, they are harder to explain. I don't actually have proof of the bricks, like I do the phlegm. The bricks don't leak out my nose, and I didn't get them as a result of sharing lip space with someone who also has bricks in their head. And the phlegm is temporary, while I suspect the bricks are not. So really, the bricks may just be all in my terribly full head, meaning I'm imagining them.

I could never do the Rubik's Cube. I do not hold the smoothness of my brain responsible, but more my short attention span. My brother was the kind of guy that got back on his bike when he fell down, the kind of guy that kept practicing the Rubik's Cube until he could solve it in 34 seconds. I was the kind of girl who couldn't ride a bike until she was eighteen. I'm still not very good.

I blame my poor bike-riding skills on the bricks. They really mess with my center of balance. I blame a lot of things on the bricks. No one really understands, but the more I talk about silly things like having bricks in my head, the more people seem to believe that there may be at least something in my head.

I'm drinking hot tea to help break up the phlegm. I wish I could drink hot sledgehammers to break up the bricks. Then later, I will go to bed to not get any sleep at all, what with my full head and all. Tomorrow morning, I will call in to work and tell them about my phlegm-filled head, so that I may continue to lay in bed and not get any sleep at all. They don't want waitresses that give everyone phlegm-heads.

I've never tried to call in to work and tell them about the bricks. I think I would still have to go to work, lugging my brick-head along with me. Bricks must not be contagious.