Lately, due to life, my brain has been like scrambled eggs. Over-cooked. In browned butter.
I can't finish sentences, I run up and down the stairs forgetting what I was looking for, I, I, I...
Sat down at my desk and found a scrap of paper. This was written on it:
I stared and stared. I stared some more. It was my handwriting. I was completely blank. This really began to scare me. Had I gone mad? Do I live a parallel life that I'm unaware of?
I finally figured out what I was writing about.
Here's a hint. The answer is something everyone has read, whether they wanted to or not.