No wonder sometimes I am a sideways mess.  
I am not supposed to question everything.  I question everything.  
We have to fight.  For peace.
Love is not supposed to be the answer.  Love is the answer. (says the single girl)
I am weak (weaker sex, emotions, female).  I am strong.  
     Wait.  I feel weak.  I strongly feel that I might be weak.
Religion isn’t where God is. 
Cells might be small universes.  Universes might be really big cells.
Our solar system might be located in some giant’s large intestines. 
My son is wiser than my dad.
USA might be the enemy, or controlled by the enemy.
You might be the enemy.  
Or I might be the enemy.  I am a good girl.  Wait.  That’s bad.  Good girl?
Sex is natural and normal.  Wait.  That’s good, right?  Or would that be bad?
I am bad for questioning.
I need a smoke.   I don’t smoke.  Cigarettes are legal, highly toxic, addictive, and deadly.
The illegal kind grows naturally and doesn’t have chemicals in it.  
    Probably few deaths, not many dangerous side effects either.  But that’s illegal.
Now I need two smokes.  And a nap.  And flouride.
I’m thinking too much again.  Rebel.