Kinda weird how just the thought of an event can affect you, don't you think?
How it toys with your mind, poking and proding, running its smooth, incorporeal digits over the surface of your brain until it finds the crevice, the crack, and button, that it can utilize to infiltrate your mind.
Spurning all nature of what-ifs and thens that spear and slice and cut until you can't stand it, let out a howl of frusturation, draw the offended stares of those near you.
But naturally, they don't understand.
No one truely does.
Do they?
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A walk in my geta
To steal a phrase from one of my friends, this is Mostly Lovely Randomness.
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