Voices say you had sex with the Indian.
Voices didn’t say that, voices, one voice, was very clear just now and said “I had sex with the Indian.”
Can’t make heads or tails of that being your voice, or whomever you were with in New York at the time. I know you told me you were there with a friend. I know you told me you made the Indian wait in the lobby for 3 hours and he still had flowers for you, something like that.
I also know we broke up, and I also know that few hours later you were on a bus headed to Boston, and I met you for the second time, in person.
I’m like, shuffling through a lot of emotions right now and while I do get annoyed, I’m not really angry.
For some reason, the voices keep going back to these points in time, as if they’re supposed to hold weight or influence how I currently feel.
If it weren’t for my memory maybe I would hold it against you, but I’m confident in what I know/remember, and I’ll continue to say we were “young dumb and full of cum” you have to give your younger self some grace, especially since the brain reaches adult hood at like 26 or something crazy like that, maybe later I think a new study shows.
So I’m not mad.
But I also don’t want to think about this.
Hence the blog.