As in, completely. As in, I want nothing more than to describe all the crazy things I've been doing without having to address what I wrote only a few days ago, so far and so foreign does it seem to me. I told you, it is magic, the difference between that me and this me. Already I feel the mild embarrassment that comes when I look back and see my purple prose, overwritten as it always is when I feel some strong emotion. I can't remember now what it felt like, and it left as suddenly as it came. That's why I get so angry with people who suggest I just exercize or think positively or something, rather than take drugs. Because when I, who am only three days out of it, can't understand it, how on earth do they thing they can?
Anyway, I am well. In Paraguay and bursting with stories, though short on time. You'll have them soon, I promise.
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