What makes dust?  A man says while idly walking through a corridor.  It feels like the entire building is a series of corridors hat ring around, constantly into nowhere.  What makes madness?  There is clothing strewn about at random intervals, that all looks handmade.  It's like clothing from all different eras, but made by an uninformed costumer from the future.  You notice this because at the beginning of your journey, you were clothed.  Now, somehow, you are not.  You scramble about, looking for something to put on, but nothing suites your fancy.  Imagine that.  Style is more important than being naked in front of strangers in this place.  People seem to stop noticing you.  You manage to find a closet with a particularly smooth, deep red robe.  You drape it around yourself, and immediately an older woman comments on it.  You lovely thing.  Somewhere else in the corridor, in a different time, a man gives you a strange hat, like a shallow Robin Hood cap.  You remember that earlier you ran into Gabe and he told you about how his girlfriend (who was still Jeanna) was running around in here as well.  But now you are outside.  A small fenced in coop that has no animals inside.  Gabe is nonchalant but lacking a presence of self.  He gestures and leans and poses in a way that says he doesn't want to look in your eyes.  He does that sometimes, but now he is just a chain of avoidance.  You move on.  Inside again though you never went through any doors.  This place doesn't have any doors, but there are so many distinctly different rooms.  The architecture feels fake too.  Everything is exaggerated and, patterned, boldly colored, like some surrealist set pieces.  As you travel, around and around, the they seem to become real.  Not any more realistic, but this is the only reality left to cling to.  A man you don't know pulls you aside.  He says he knows you.  His friend, a mutual friend that we met through.  They are putting on a play, and of course you should stay for the performance.  You are drawn away, still looking for the locker where you stashed your original clothes and your keys.  Circling circling.  Are you going further down, or up?  It feels like the spiral isn't steady, but you have yet to be in the same room twice.  You try to remember where the first room is.  Instead, you remember the elevator that brought you here.  Like you assume the building to be, the elevator was circular.  It was too large to be a real elevator, you told yourself.  the spinning numbers of the elevator dial looked like a cheap trick, like a paper being spun behind cutouts in the wall.  More stage trickery.  But it brought you here and you can't leave.

The next project after I finish this comic should be a short princess story about being a strong woman, or a long-running historical fiction drama based around ancient Egyptian civilization...

Alright.  Clarification time.  I keep trying to be vague in a horrible attempt to keep people from worrying, because that's how my stubborn ass works.  The problem is I was hoping for a storybook romance rekindling with Dan now that I'm out here.  When it comes to romance, Dan fulfills my every need.  He is attentive, (sometimes I need to ask for it, but that is better than most men) he's funny, he keeps the bills paid despite not having a job, and he indulges my need to go out and have fun despite the lack of funds.  He even lets his friends hit on me because he knows I like the attention.  The problem is lack of sex.  Originally, it was because we were both sick for an extended period from the move.  But now there are no excuses to why he should not be railing me nightly.  He literally LITERALLY has no reason to not be providing this function of his maleness.  I apologize to dudes I know reading this, but he is a fantastic fuck, once he gets off his ass and makes it happen.  I just need physical attention on a regular basis, whether it is every day or once a week.  There is just no way to predict when I will get it, so I can't regulate my self-love time to balance it out.  If I knew it was only once a month, I could schedule it.  It just needs to make sense, but Dan's wang just doesn't want to agree to any fucking thing.  It;s driving me nuts.  Also, the fact that it bothers me so much draws into question how much of a whore I am.  I've been trying to move away from this perception for so so so so so long, but it follows me everywhere.  There is hope for change in the situation, but it is coming slowly, with lots of talks between Dan and I, and it is frustrating.

The end.

No, ice cream won't make me feel better, it will just make me feel unattractive.  Wait, no, more unattractive.  Sorry you prefer sweets to sex, darling, but this needs to fucking end.

Watched God Bless America last night, then had a dream about what life could have been.  My high school crush was there.  There was laughter and high heart hearts and feelings I've missed for a very long time.  There's a mindset that used to be the very core of who I am, and I realized I've become so much of what I used to hate.  It's still early enough in life to stop this change from happening.  I don't need to succumb to this cold, unkind, cleverness that gives so many a smug grin and a heartless attitude.  I need to find what made me want to be here in the firrst place.  I know what it is, but I stopped believing in it so long ago.  Need to restart.  Need to feel the sweaty palms, driving instinct back in my bones.  The screaming, soaring pride and rage and love for the world that brought me out in the first place for all these changes.  I can do it again, I can turn back time, I can chance the paths.