I think I write only when I'm not satisfied with the nature of things or when I'm so taken aback that it doesn't occur to me to ask any questions. I like the latter reason. I truly do. But I am pondering the implications.

Probably because I am still waiting for punishment for what I have done. I do not believe I have done something wrong. However I do feel that social moral has some sort of grip of the tiny bit of moral I have hidden away.

I slept with an old friend. Now I'm waiting. For something. For some consequence of sorts. Cause there's always consequences. Always. No deed goes unpunished ever. There is a price to pay, I just don't know what it is yet. So I'm waiting, waiting...