I followed a memory home last night. It sat pleasantly with me for a moment before floating on into the night, while I drifted into my dreams and out of what haunts me these days. Reality is all to harsh for me, but that memory reminded me its not always bad. In truth I followed a car home. It had two people sitting in the back, cuddling, like high school lovers without there drivers licenses. Sometimes its where you've been that keeps you from where you are going. That can be good, and that can be bad. I keep looking for whoever I write this to. Its as though its a letter to the narrator of my story, not for me or you, but dedicated to a grander scheme. It's not to someone as great as god, but somehow helps to establish a theme. and now I worry that my theme is a cautionary tale. In truth, my life, like all yours, connects us to a reality we choose to drink like punch or poison. But it is not really better or worse than anyone else's, but the good or bad is our choice to determine. I have to believe that while my life involved much different events from anyone else's, it is the same story line, with different nouns. I don't know why I have to hold to this. Maybe it establishes justice. Maybe I feel that I don't deserve or require special circumstances to justify my actions, and that by making myself equal to others, I should have a choice in everything. A choice not weighed down by presumptions that I am different, special, unique, or somehow greater and more deserving of the consequences. Its as though I am solving all disposition between mercy and justice, by removing all the complications of inequality. Because equality allows perfect justice, while inequality and individualism, necessitates mercy. Maybe this equality is the only way I can understand the mechanisms behind choice. As though free agency is not possible without some greater more perfect equality. But in the same right, choice, is in it's self, the equalizing factor. I think I just took myself around logic loop. My head hurts.