I want to say something. I want to know what it meant, and I want to know if maybe I read too far into it or if I projected. Which seems entirely too likely, but I really can't read it any other way. I read into things damn near constantly. And I'd like to think I'm right at least some of the time. Then again, maybe not. Or maybe I just really, really want to know because I'm just that curious. I guess there's no way for me to know.
It definitely feels like today has lasted at least three times as long as it actually has. My emotions have been all over the place (not to say that this is the least bit unusual lately), and I honestly haven't felt like a day has lasted this long in quite a while. I don't really know what to say. I feel the need to write something, though. And by something, I mean anything. And by anything, I mean say things that could help.
But, to be fair, I don't know what's going on, and I know it doesn't concern me. I don't know that I could say anything useful or that even if I could it would really help, because life is like that in that sometimes the best things you say are never going to be heard. I don't know why certain things always bring me back into the past. It's not at all bad. Just strange.
Strange in that I can't do anything about it, don't know how to deal with it, don't really know where to begin thinking about it even. And, something that should have probably gotten through to me by now, I have no reason to be thinking about it at all. But time permits me, so I do. I guess. Life is odd. That is all.
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