Losing it?

I feel I could write today. I'm sure I would write a lot if I only started. But as I'm not really starting I doubt I will create anything worth reading today. I'm just freewriting, whatever comes to my mind I'm putting down, with some filtering of course, so that I don't get locked up in a mental institution.
I had a strange conversation today, not so long ago, that made me realize yet again, how difficult it is to escape from your actions - however long ago they happened. It's as if what you do is written in stone, never to be erased, always to come back to haunt you, always tinting your presence, your life, always destroying the moments that could otherwise be the most carefree times of your life, always making everything you do later have somewhat negative connotations. It imprisons you, changes the way you are, the way you think, the way you act, the way you enjoy or dislike... It puts limits on what you are allowed to feel or how happy you can be. It's pretty obvious that the actions I'm talking about are not good deeds. Good deeds... wouldn't it be marvelous to have more of those on one's record? How would it feel? Well, how would I know, right?
I feel we talk too little. But talking is not as easy as it seems. It often starts innocently, some laughter, light topics, you'd think you are having a nice relaxing conversation. A minute later you are on dangerous grounds that can only bring pain, anger, and further detachment. Welcome to the hell's gate, baby!
The sadative is kicking in. Need to go now. Not making much sense here anyway. No loss.