Am I going insane or just walking around half-asleep again? Do I wear my hair in stranger places on my bobbing-head? A caricature, less mature than I really am? I turn over in the morning to avoid the sun pouring in the window. Citrus sourness stinging eyes that flutter open like warm butterflies. Drift out of bed, creak down the hall. Take out a frying pan and proceed to eat with my brain on drugs, any questions? I don’t usually answer questions the first time they are asked before 9am. I hear clowns or something more sinister laughing from a closet. I throw my cat-pillow but she is heavier than I remember so she lands close enough to encircle my head again. I see a familiar number on the loud buzzing face, I can’t ignore it. It drives me crazy. Loud footsteps finally catch up. My fiance’s face begins to buzz behind me as I brush my teeth. His eyes seem darker than mine today.