I feel as if I'm not really all here.

My feelings seem fabricated, but it's not like it was made from anyone else.

My memory isn't what it used to be.

And I can't quite register the reality I live in.

It's like the floor is constantly spinning under me like a carousel, a world constantly revolving.

And I guess now I'm standing in the flow of the river.

Not quite going against the flow, but not going with it either, y'know?

I guess what I'm saying is, during these moments of clarity in the morning and evening, I feel the most conscious, the most aware I've been, before it fades into a character.

A clown.