A Life Lived in Chapters

Life as a figment of fiction in reality is a peculiar thing to get you head around. The most head splittingly odd part about it is chapters. It stands to reason if you think about it; any story or novel is broken up into chapters. You never have a passage in a book in which the main protagonist spends hours sat on a bus for example, or a narrative of the twitches and itches of an afternoon nap - unless it's an integral part of the story (and lets face it, what a crap story that'd make!). With this in mind, imagine now what life must be like for a fictional entity forced to live without the boundaries and breaks offered by a life with chapters. It can be pretty distracting I can tell you.

People take this way of life for granted, and the knee jerk reaction is to tell me just to deal with it because everyone else does. However these periods of time are, as near as I can tell, obsolete. It's basically time spent without purpose and is generally unproductive and people would be better off without them. If you're walking to town, the chances are the walk is obsolete and if you could just "be" in town then you would be. And the biggest travesty is that most people when asked would be unable to tell you what they thought about whilst they were walking. There for, from my point of view, chapter or paragraph jumps are not only time officiant, but also VERY good for one's mental health. There has never been a time where I have been unable to account for my thoughts since my internal narrative (if there is such a thing for some one who has no "internal" anything... or external for that matter) is always a key part of the story.

The conclusion here is that, basically speaking, I get REALLY bored REALLY quickly. And usually this spells trouble because I really have no head for consequences.  

Regards

Alfie Strange