I was reading old facebook notes and I was struck by how, like, stupid and funny and self-indulgent they were, and pretentious but without being truly boastful. Maybe because it is harder to humblebrag in text form, or because in writing one looks more vulnerable because spellcheck can't smooth out the rough edges as effectively as photoshop blurs acne. I miss long-form sharing, even the pointless memes about which song represents last night, unsubtle misdirection in quiz questions about your crush, the illusion that someone cares about what you think instead of just what you did. I miss other things too. 

Maybe I could make this a proper essay but dwelling on this will make me too sad to function. 

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Oh, and last night I dreamed that I was in a Costco, part of a secret guild that snuck in at night to bounce around on the top of shelves and paper towels, led by Sindu, who had a pin-straight mohawk. It was like flying in dreams. I did something wrong and drew security's attention but I was too chickenshit to tell the guild what I had done, so I ran and hid while they were all chased away. 

Then I dreamed I was in Baltimore. I didn't want to be in Baltimore so I took a bus home. But then I lived in Ohio instead, or was it Alabama? The apartment building looked the same but it was on top of a hill with a pond in the front. As they dredged the pond, they hit something eldritch. They put up a barricade on the one road leading to the apartment and the vehicles queued infinitely. A delivery guy offered me an iced tea to let me in but I refused. The elevator was tilted, and I screamed, because I thought that I might fall off or scrape my hands off.