So today was kinda fun I guess.

I got the opportunity to explain myself to a friend who, somehow, had managed to remain clueless as to what's been going on with me. What's been wrong with me. Why I am the way I am. Why I write the drivel that I write.

I guess she must have thought I was a bipolar asshole for no reason whatsoever.

Well, I told her the reason.

I'm not ashamed of what happened to me. It's not like I had a choice in the matter. If I'd had a choice things would be different, to be sure, but there was never a choice. There was only inertia and gravity and roadways and all those other metaphors that I've become so accustomed to flinging and slinging about.

Remember the gorilla? That one was my favorite.

I've just noticed that I'm writing in the past tense now.

That's a stupid thing to do. Stupid and premature. For that tense implies, duh, that this is in the past. That it's over.

I don't know that.

I only suspect it.

And I've been wrong before.