Judge all you like. I write for myself, not for a reaction. The world looks different when you are living on auto-pilot. Yes, you hurry, class today and the faint memories of yesterday firmly fenced in by sleep. Do you imagine how the world looks to me? Can you? Life is not something to be looked at directly, when you have not allowed your body time to reset. Thoughts are not heavy things, as unimaginable and tasteless as the smoke of a one-past-far-too-many cigarette. No less enjoyable, but far easier to bear. Just like I write for myself, I exist for myself. I am discovering who I am by degrees, slowly, and it is becoming more and more apparent with every choice. Different chemicals alter your mind in different ways. I compare the experiences, and the part left unchanged, or so I feel today, is the true essence of personality. The constant of you. The human element. Yes, I seek out new experiences. Yes, I try new things. Yes, I am aware that it is (now) Wednesday. It started out as boredom, curiosity, but now I have a greater purpose: I am, in myself, a grand science experiment. The choices are not always the best, I see, blessed as I am with logic and a driving sense of my own limits. I do not repeat mistakes, if mistakes they may be, but I do not repent the choice. Yes, it could have gone better. I am aware that I am making little sense. Normally, when I write, the right words come to me, while the wrong flicker and die. Today I have no strength to capture any sense of cohesion. I choose not to be specific. I once had an air of mystery, afraid of the scope of my readership. I will try to recapture that vague beauty for no other's sake than my own. I miss the delight of saying so much while writing so little. But, yes. Any grade-schooler can identify the parts: today, I am the scientific method in action.