An Emotional Journey

My room is flooded. The water from the outside flood is flowing through balcony door into my room. I was away for a while and it is going on. Was I in prison? (look below) Im thinking about pumping it all outside, but this would do nothing, as the flood would just pour back in. And buckets wont help either, its even less effective. I am feeling helpess and weak, and powerless (not the word. its like Frustrated+Powerless?). Then i see a big branch from the tree (of life), just lying here on the carpet/floor. It was here before (it wasnt or i couldnt see it), I thinkfeelimagine cutting it in a way that will make it placeable in the doorframe of baclony, acting as a sandbag, a dam. Saving me. from floodwater.  And I have a handsaw in my hand, with red handle. I start sawing, my thoughts say "Its an all-purpose saw, its best for [metal,aluminum,wood,concrete], but can be used also on [wood? this wood?]", and as they do Im thinkfeeling how good of a purchase that was. (Also this i...

 In grandparents room. Many ppl. Many cats. I look around and we have just... recently moved in here from the second floor apartment. This is new and less.. it has less soul. I want to go back. I realize that new ppl live there now and i cant go back. they dont know me. it would be very awkward to do it. it cant be done. panic sets in, the usual kind when i cant reverse something, or ALMOST cant. but really really wanna do it. I think about taking pills or something to commit suicide, and to write my note about how it is bc i cant live there anymore. [is this childish is this bad]. WHY DID WE MOVE HERE IT WAS SO GOOD DOWN THERE. its not our apartment everything is foreign. My cats are mine. They came with us (interesting, this). Sean and others are on the windowsill. The windows open in a strange way, the slit is very straight and smooth and straight edged. 90 degrees, it doesnt have features, just an opening. And it has less protections here too. And the outside windowsill... it h...

 Im back again on the fifth floor (lots of real REAL fast descention down the stairs. im SO GOOD at this now. barely any slowing down in the air. is this a good thing. i feel like it is). Ira and Vasya left for some times, went to relatives, and their apartment is left to us. I go upstairs. Im inside. when i touch something he probably or def touched i feel icky. But unless it s a definite TOUCHED a LOT i dont feel i will wash myself from that. Looking thru the balcony window. Going to the kitchen to look at the old ways the things were on the walls. But they are mostly not that way anymore. They are not there. I wanted to see them  question mark. (I feel that i dont wanna touch anything, walls, but still to go there and look, i ingore the possibilty of touching. AND a little bit of not being allowed? there? or like... not being supposed to be there) (as i do those and other things, after doing most of them, i think OH maybe they have webcameras around. He would oh he WOULD. i...