I have no idea what I'm doing. The world just swirls and loops all around me, and I stand mesmerized, mouth agape, drool oozing from the corner of my mouth, all sense gone.

N would laugh at my ridiculous attempt to analyze the situation(s). B would argue that I have little sense as it is in the first place.

We all know that thinking too hard about something is a good way to make things even more complicated than they already are.

All of this could mean nothing.

Then again, perhaps I am purposefully turning a blind eye, in hopes of avoiding peril. (Although, again, we all know that the best way to get something to attack you full-on in the face is to ignore it. What you don't know only gets bigger—and stronger, with sharper claws. Man, I'm a paranoid bastard.)

The truth, most undoubtedly, lies somewhere in between.

Damn.

Sorry for being painfully cryptic. It is, unfortunately, my nature.

P.S. It is fucking cold in Chicago right now. Maybe I really am a masochist. I'm actually starting to like it. Not that I'm really willing to endure four more years of seasonal affective disorder, but, well, as I've said time and time again, these things are quite out of my hands.

P.P.S. @!#$&!!! I just don't know anymore. Although, most likely, I never did know in the first place. Bleh.