Maybe the thought of it should still sicken me.
Maybe I have a wierd "issue" that I don't want to face. Or even contemplate.
Maybe the thought of
ugh, I can't even go on.
Maybe it excites me and I am honestly confused about why. Bewildered, even.
Maybe it's a scientific thing.
Maybe it's a past-life thing.
Maybe I don't want to talk about it.
Maybe I don't want to think about it.
Maybe I should go to bed.
I should stop worrying about my words. My words are my own. And words are just that. Just...words.
It all seems really simple when I put it that way.
I'm probably going to delete this blog entry later. I will go over it someday when I get the time to update this and wonder "What the fuck was I on?"