nobody knows me at all

I don't know who to write to anymore, so I'll write to myself. For myself. I do everything for myself, don't I? Yes...
I look for myself. I love for myself. I want and desire and cry for myself.
Maybe they were all right...it's increasingly likely.

I had a very odd afternoon/evening/night. I met up with him. We drove and talked and spent entirely too much time together. I spent the remaining hours wondering what the hell had happened.

More later.