Ten Minutes of BS

Right now, I'm not exactly sure what I'm writing about. The people around me distract me. You can relate, right?

I don't even know why I'm talking to you. You are merely one of my readers. Technically a figment of my imagination. That's all you are, really.

I almost feel like I"m talking to myself as I read to myself what I write. So when I ask if you can relate, I'm asking myself if I can relate to me, right? That's strange. Even stranger to think about. (I'm kinda crazy.)

... Question. Rhetorical, obviously. Why are you here? What brought you to this shitty piece of writing with no true purpose? Maybe you're bored. Or you're looking for inspiration. Or a stalker invading my personal life. Or you're Valley, and you're reading the entries on your website.

Hi, Valley. :)

But anyways... Timer says I've got 3:20 left.

Time flies, but not fast enough.

If it weren't for writer's cramp, I'd extend the timer.

... If it weren't for Adam and Eve's sin, God might extend our timer...

Whoa. Damn. Where did that come from? Too deep. Wow. Damn. That was really dramatic. I know what Mom means now.

One minute left! Fastfastfastfastquick-- Write your everything before it's too late!

20 seconds turns into 15 into 10

and... I'm done. Pen drop.