McCain made the wrong choice. I shouldn't care but do. Don't know why I care. There are more important things. I can't think of any. I think of many (Gustav is flooding the once flooded.) that I can't put into a sentence (just did). What's with me tonight (any night)? I'm here (have been here for years). I'm not here (not always present). I think of things that I shouldn't (I'm alone) but can't share. I put headphones on and that helps (other voices, noises) block out the deranged thoughts. It doesn't help. Music makes me think of other things I don't want to think of. I take headphones off. I put them right back on. I put another song on (skip). I start to say things aloud (to myself, to the world). I speak out loud. I picture people from long ago (how long?), images I make up in my mind. I picture myself (not the reflection I find in the mirror), I picture me then (it makes me cringe) and me now (cringe again). I wonder what happened (I know, I didn't know). I wonder what will happen (and I'm frightened). I'm here. I close my eyes and breathe. I think, 'I'm alive. I'm here. I'm now.' This simple thought weighs. It feels like a pulse: Control. Out of control. I don't have control of it. And I worry. And I want. And I wish. And I get depressed. And I'm uncertain. And now my mind has calmed. I'm content to be what I am, where I am. I'm sure. I calm my breathing: In. Out. In. Out. Breathe: Here. Now. Here. Now. Breathe. I close off everyone in proximity. I'm here alone in thought and don't want anyone else around me. This. Sure. Type. Thoughts. But alone. Very. And make 'em public. Whatever public is is. But also private. Thoughts to share.