It's all about deja vu today (three times of course, three is the magic number, that esteemed holy trinity), and I'm very sure it's not memories, but dreams, which I had forgotten until I faced it in a physical setting. I know most people don't really believe in deja vu, but I do - it's a bit hard to not do so when you're experiencing it right there and then. Nothing very spectacular, but unnerving enough for me to spend my waking hours today pondering about coincidences, dreams, fate or fated meetings, the absurdity of freedom, Nietzsche's eternal return, complexities of the human heart - silly things like that where no amount of contemplation can ever hope to change anything substantially, but I do so anyway.
(I did major in musical analysis, you know - deconstruction is second-nature to me.)
I'm not often wrong, but I'm not always right. This realization makes me upset and happy and confused and so much more, but enough of these universal catchphrases - there's only so much ridiculous and deluded pigeon-holing from myself, that I can handle for today.
I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.