going-bovine

Maybe there__ a heaven, like they say, a place where everything we__e ever done is noted and recorded, weighed on big karma scales. Maybe not. Maybe this whole thing is just a giant experiment run by aliens who find out human hijinks amusing. Or maybe we__e an abandoned project started by a deity who checked out a long time ago, but we__e still hard-wired to believe, to try to make meaning out of the seemingly random. Maybe we__e all part of the same unconscious stew, dreaming the same dreams, hoping the same hopes, needing the same connection, trying to find it, missing, trying again__ach of us playing our parts in the other__ plotlines, just one big ball of human yarn tangled up together. Maybe this is it.

I've been poked and prodded in places I'd always prided myself on keeping untouched for that one special doctor who gives me a ring and a promise someday.

I've never done acid, finding it hard to go willingly to a place that could be frightening, hellish, and totally beyond my control. A place much like high school.