I'm still talking to you, in my head, too much, way too much. I think too much, way too much. I know that, the lady that massaged my head told me my skin was very stiff around my skull- a sign of over thinking. I need to think, professionally, so I should stop thinking personally. At least cut it down, but every thought turns into a rant, into a novel and most of the time, I tell it to you. You know so much already. About my family, about philosophy, about my thoughts on humanity, time, society, reality and locality. You is like a thought dump, where I let out all my rants to not say them out loud.
