Of all the things I sift through my mind on white grainy mornings as I stare out the window at the highway, It did not hit me; The possibility of the switch being flipped while I was too busy laughing at the Coincidences that we've been dealt and the Choices we've been dealing. But that isn't what troubles me really. What troubles me is it did not hit me that there was a switch.
I am far too distracted for the usual emotional tabulations, star-led in our unselective Honesty. I write only for your eyes and now I find I cannot write for anything else for I'm drunk on it. Unnatural, that is what it is, as nobody should be so honest and it does not take me 5 minutes to know that nobody is even with themselves. Neither am I and I'd imagine a man who is completely honest with himself to be deemed insane. People hide behind their flavor-of-the-month-facades, self-made structures and modesty. But we have no facade but ommision, no structure save distance and nothing to be modest about.
So in your honesty when you say 'Only then' you can imagine how i felt.
Already knee deep in the papers of your past, the paper cuts start to sting.