The erosion of my sub-conci(plural for consciousness) seems to be creating a certain level of havoc between inner personas that, needless to say, are getting crowded in this internal disco of my skull.
    Moments of illusion drive me to being a different person entirely when speaking with the normal of the current Denver populace. Apparently, and this is unknown to me, I hold conversations with myself in which I use another voice completely foreign to myself in order to speak. This other me makes things possible I cannot, or am too apathetic to, achieve.
    For instance:
Customer: [curiously] I’ve got 30 acres of fencing, what do I need.
Other Me: [instantly, without blinking, like Data of Star Trek] That’s 1,144 feet per side assuming the place is square. Four sides would suggest about 4,570 feet total, space your posts such-n-such distance, yeah, about 1200 dollars.
Customer: [baffled]

My life.

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