A guy with an afro sat down in front of me in history today, so I read my book instead of listening.

Fable III comes out tomorrow. I am excited. I think Emily has me wrong. Or I could be overanalyzing it. Whatever. I haven't needed friends before, why should I start making them now, right? Laura is positively the greatest. Between Entourage, Arrested Development, House, Futurama, and everything else... we have more inside jokes than words. Dustin and I have before communicated in nothing but obscure references, and she felt left out. So we've been carefully indoctrinating her. I must say, not only is there unbelievable drive, but there's progress. South Park starts tomorrow. I hope they don't go all 'college kid' on us. The best episodes are the politically driven ones. But I digress. Laura and I have started a very subtle rating system, combined with a few short lists. It's excellent fun.

*EDIT* Fable III has just been pushed back to October 26. Fuck.

Sorry

You have a right to know, but I don't think I'll ever tell you. I really liked you. From the moment I saw you. And what the others in class said about you made me feel so good. I was ecstatic when you seemed to be who they thought you were. Too good to be true? Indeed. I soured because I found out I couldn't have you. It's not fair to you, but that's the truth. I'm trying hard to be good. I'm just jealous because they were spot-on about how you acted - still act - around me. I can see that there would have been something very nice there, but I can understand that it's not about that.

About Me

I have decided I form opinions ridiculously fast, and almost always they come off as my firm view on the matter. This is a beautiful thing, because while I'm quick to form an opinion, and I could debate anything in my favor until the Earth ends,* I never believe I'm totally correct. I may believe some ideas I have are correct, but I'm always open to people persuading me of their opinion. People tend to get discouraged, and take my views at face value, then give up. But some are adamant and possess a keen logic behind their words. Congratulations are in order for them - as long as they speak on a reasonably intelligent level I'm listening, always wanting to be wrong.

*which will be never if I'm too busy debating to make it happen

My opinions of people are even worse. I instantly judge people in the harshest, most extreme way possible. But of course I'm always ready to be persuaded into changing my mind. Of course occasionally I judge people to be alright. These people always have the chance to prove me wrong as well, but they rarely get a third bite at the pie.

I have almost no morals. If something needs to be accomplished, I feel like it should be done quickly and efficiently, with little regard to anything else. I'm not going to win any prizes for compassion this way, but I wasn't going to do that anyways. Seldom times I find I despise myself for being amoral, but it's usually justifiable. Probably shouldn't ponder that too often though.

What I've found through all of this is that I observe people remarkably well - much better than even I had imagined. I read people all around me, and I learn things I didn't know I knew. With alarming regularity I can predict what people are going to do, and use it against them. Also, I've become a master of changing tack. Anyone who starts to gain any ground on me is immediately stonewalled by my reversal of strategy. They could be pressing a topic for the victory blow, but right before they can deliver, I've undermined their argument and forced them to re-evaluate. Most people have learned to give up, I'll admit it would be tiring to debate me, I think it's tiring debating others, and I almost always end up winning (or at least not losing).

Anyways, I'm intensely glad I've learned these things without trying.

Some other things to mention:

Game theory is awesome. I'm working on a way to 'cheat' the system.

Fascism. Authoritarian-Autocratic rule. That's how the world should be.

I'm keeping a secret. I think I'm a positive force in someone's life, but I don't want to reveal myself. Complimentary behavior isn't my style. I'm definitely more of the I win-you-lose zero-sum realist type.

Honor is very important to me. I want to win, yes, and I know I said I place little if any value in morals, but I want to win in a very fair way. Underhanded is a perfectly good strategy (All war is based on deception. -Sun Tzu), provided that the other actor can engage in covert operations as well. Also, there is no honor to be gained from cheating, so it should be used as a last resort. When exercising victory after an underhanded assault, one must tread extremely lightly, and never dishonor the enemy.

I think the reason I make bad grades has finally been revealed to me. I was sitting in Russian, knowing all the answers, frustrated with how difficult it was becoming for me not to get up and yell at the class how easy everything was. For three weeks, I've resisted being the teacher's pet, but still turned in all homework and assignments on time and without error. Until last week. Last week I only went to class once, and put zero effort into even that. Thus, an epiphany dawned on me: "When I start to get good at something, anything, I intentionally do something to hinder my progress - until I fall back into the pack of the average." It's like I know I can succeed, but I don't want to be any better than anyone else, for fear of sticking out. I mean, I know this is highly beneficial in a work-related sense, but why can I not just excel and be proud of accomplishing something?

This wasn't really an about me, but it's definitely good to write out what I've been thinking over and over. I think this is something I should continue to do - if only so I can remember myself. Anything anyone wants to add? I love reading people's opinions, even if it is for the wrong reasons. But I promise to be nice. In fact, I just won't say anything mean about what you think, and you can have my word on that.

A Reminder I No Longer Need

Get used to people not loving you, but remember you're worth loving.
Get used to people not dating you, but know you're worth dating.
Get used to people not calling you, but remember you're worth calling.
Get used to people not listening to you, but know you're worth hearing.
Get used to not being invited, but know you're worth inviting.
Get used to people not hiring you, while knowing you're worth hiring.
Give people permission not to sit next to you, while knowing you're worth sitting next to.
Get used to not being friends, but remember you're worth befriending.
Get used to being excluded, while knowing you're worth including.
Give people permission not to appreciate you, while knowing you're worthy of appreciation.
Give the world permission not to desire you, while knowing you're desirable.
Get used to not being loved, and give people permission not to love you, but never forget you're worth loving.

Yes, You

Fuck you. I don't care. Not anymore. Not at all.

Unoriginal Thoughts from my Own Brain

A realization I had a while ago that was oddly comforting:
The intangibility of knowing what it will look like, ever, and not knowing what you want (because apparently no one ever does) means to get it, you don't have to DO anything. It will find you, it will be natural, it will be easy, and it will be perfect.

However, I take no solace in the fact that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, because, as of now, I am sporting a quite perfect nineteen in a row record.

I was serious about saving you from the Cotton King and his communist regime. Don't doubt that. I wish you would have let me. You have no idea how good it would have been.

Unmoving Like a Boulder

"oderint dum metuant"

“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?”
-Epicurus 341–270 B.C.

“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
-Oscar Wilde

When President John F. Kennedy welcomed 49 Nobel Prize winners to the White House in 1962 he said, “I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent and of human knowledge that has ever been gathered together at the White House – with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.”

“(480): I just gave the bartender my number in roman numerals. If she figures it out, she’s worth a shot.”

“(978): you know what sucks? talking to chicks you dont want to have sex with.”

“(971): So then the officer asked you how you were getting home and you told him “very carefully”

“(631): im so bored in class... i just made a pie graph of my favorite bars and a bar graph of my favorite pies”

“(647): Get out of your relationship and into my pants.”

“(360): You were so high at Ikea last night that you were convinced you could speak Swedish. The whole the time you were our navigator and when we got to the cashier you were hitting on the lady. When she gave you her number you told her you were saving her number as Inglfurfta cuaue she must be Swedish since she works there.”

“(847): Any time before 12:00pm. Can go fuck itself.”

“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”
-Ernest Hemingway

“There is no friend as loyal as a book.”
-Ernest Hemingway

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I’m awake, you know?”
-Ernest Hemingway

Spiders

Our internet sucks donkey cock at UNT. Also, it sounds like there is a tank rolling around outside almost all day. Why the fuck do we need a new football stadium? We don't even have a legitimate football team. Baffling.

The insomnia is back. The thoughts, not so good anymore. I was doing so well. What's happening?

I'm still working on a good post. And by working I mean staring at it because I can't sleep. And by staring at it I mean opening it, then wondering why our internet sucks so hard. And by wondering why our internet sucks so hard, I mean I get frustrated and go lay down. And by go lay down I mean I stare at the ceiling. Stupid insomnia. If you made it all the way through that paragraph, you might be my best friend.

Anger

My heart is beating harder,
It begs me to tear it out of my chest.
As the fiery blood races through my veins,
Burning each extremity with the fire of a thousand needles.
The pain is unbearable,
The hatred consumes.
As I try to be still and accept my fate.
But the beauty is calming –
I’m oddly at peace.
Although hopeless and angry and sad.
And I watch the beauty,
And I am the fire,
And they said the fire burned the beauty in our eyes.
And the hatred calms.
The rage subsides.
I’m just fucking pathetic.
I cannot stop.
I am doomed.
The pain returns,
I can endure more.
The hatred is gone.
I am alone,
I am afraid,
I am unwanted.

This is how it is meant to be.

Fifty-fifty

"Never believe in hope. Rely on it."

So, what's wrong with twice as many choices? That's four times as likely to fuck up. Let me get all crazy and confusing here for a second. One is tangible, but the other is only a hint and whisper. I'd rather take the hinted whisper, but that means sacrificing the tangible forever this time. But then right there I've just said that taking one would be settling, because I'd prefer the faint whisper. How bad would I feel if I gave up one and then lost the other? I'll tell you. I hate going 0 for 2. But that's what it sounds like. Again.

Anyways, sometimes life sucks. The memories are horrid now. Such shit. I can't think about anyone else, though. The closeness I felt, I can't imagine feeling it again. I look at a girl, and I see me holding her, but I can't see why. And how could it ever be that someone would feel close to me? I can't imagine. It's depressing to think about. I'm destined to be alone, unless I get exceptionally lucky. And remember what I've said before about emotional reactions to unpredictable futures. What a fucking Catch 22.

I need something to get my mind off my life. A game, a book, a sport, whatever. As long as there's no room for me to think about my situation. So terrible, but that's all that's left in my memories of how it used to be. And it used to be acceptable.

Time

"There's the funny thing about time... The problem is it's just too chronological."

Back when I went to church, one of the pastors said that. He looked exactly like Chandler from Friends. He was the only one I ever respected there. If time travel were possible, but you could only go back and fix one thing one time, and you had to live with the result no matter what, would you? And what would you change? It might suprise you if you think long enough. You might not want to risk a bad outcome, so you avoid ever entering the situation in the first place. Think about that. Rather than fix or fuck up one thing, you'd rather have never known a whole person. I probably would, wouldn't you? You'd throw away all the good things to live without the mistakes. Now what if I said you'd lose your memory during the time travel? What if I said that you wouldn't recognize anything that you'd already done before? I'd bet a billion dollars you'd repeat the exact same mistakes again. Maybe we have time traveled, but we'd never know it. Makes me question, do you believe in fate?

Nemesis

I feel sick to my stomach. I didn't do anything. Notice, that's not "I didn't do anything wrong" or "I only did what was best." I didn't do anything. And I am hated. Is there ever a way to prove my innocence? No, and I don't care. I'll take hated. It's better than hurting. It's better than unloved. I was feeling pretty good with everything until this morning. I had forgotten about those emails. My phone doesn't get pictures, you see. So when I opened those emails the memories came rushing back at me like a freight train. The memories - shit - the memories. Mostly images. And words without voices. I cannot recall what the voices sounded like, but I could tell you exactly what they said. I hate the voices, the voices only hurt. I remember the "good" times. I remember the bad times. I think, and as I remember, my bias melts away, and I'm wondering what the fuck I was doing for almost a year. I don't know. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it, but I sure as fuck am glad I don't have to put up with it.

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.

Tired

I am confused. I am exhausted. I am lost.

We had a basketball game last night. Didn't know about it until shortly before, but I had already broken out a new bottle of Skyy. Trying to play after drinking doesn't really work. I didn't play terrible, but (not to sound conceited) without me as a threat, no one else could really get open. We lost by thirty. I don't even want to talk about it. We have to play again on Wednesday, and if it goes anything like the last one, I may quit. No one else is even trying. Brad does, but he's lost his shooting. The other guys won't listen when Brad or I coach them, and we're the only ones who have ever played before. It's a little aggravating.

Been a little carefree lately. It's improved some things. I still worry though. And get frustrated. And fret. I think it's getting better, but "I'm still depressed as hell by all the goddam phonies in the world." That's my Holden Caulfield. Reread 'Catcher in the Rye' (obviously, maybe), which I hadn't read since eighth grade. I don't think I understood it at all back then. I'm definitely the Holden Caulfield type, I hate to admit. At least at the end he recognizes he misses people. I just seem to ruin things.

Had two tests today. One I was ready for, one I was not. Math is ridiculously simple, I only had trouble with one problem, but I'm pretty good at lucky guessing and coming up with the right answer. Due to that, I was able to work my way backwards and figure out how to do it the right way. Oh well. It was slightly satisfying. Biology is not my friend. I'm not understanding it, mostly because I genuinely don't care. If it works inside the body, it works. I can't see it, but obviously I'm alive, so who gives two fucks WHY I am?

Contemplated some strange things in geography for some reason today. Found something happy to distract me for a while. But mostly, I'm just as exhausted as hell. Can't hardly think straight. Oh, before we went to practice basketball tonight, Brad and I put another sign on some dude's door. This one said 'Fudgepacking Convention, please RSVP for the party here with four knocks - Bring your own nuts.' I got a kick out of that.

Basically, I don't know what I'm saying, I was just writing to write. Not so bad, eh? Ha. I wasn't expecting to write more than one sentence. I'm feeling quite alone, but I'm still not going to talk to anyone. Shit, I really am Holden Caulfield. I should change that somehow. I'm off to bed, I think, even though I slept all day. I don't know what's wrong with me. One minute I can't ever sleep, and the next it's all I do.

I dream of a trip to Chernobyl, and Moscow, and a backpacking adventure in the Urals to see the Auroras. Then perhaps a nice train ride to London if I survive to settle down for a while. That would be a cool place to live. Just go with the flow for a bit. I could give up on the world, Henry David Thoreau style. It would be nice. I hope in a few years I'll be more able to do it.

Numb

The capacity to feel pain is gone. The feeling of being overwhelmed is constant. What does he want? He knows. But he will always lie. Who is he? Now that is the question, for he does not know himself. To put it in other words, he fills his own cup, and he is happy. However, when he depends on others to fill it with happiness for him, the collective evil steals the good and fills him with the shit. Selfish fuckers. He lets them fill it up, sees it is not happiness and dumps it out, but then has his error when he extends his cup again. He needs to fill it by himself, with the happiness that he chooses, but he must first figure out who he is. What is happiness? It is fulfillment. It is a by-product, like motivation is a by-product of success. It doesn't make sense to him either, but he accepts it because he respects the teacher more than anyone else in the world. He lied about how he felt, of course. He wants more than he says, and he knows it is no secret. He lied about not feeling hurt, because the comments he heard have hurt him more than he has ever felt before. The pain he experiences is the only way he's sure it's not a dream. He chuckles to himself. Some part of his brain was concerned with the Nirvana Fallacy, his unending quest for his 'magic bullet.' The chuckle comes from the semi-suicidal notion that any ordinary bullet could be the actual 'magic bullet,' because that would end it. He dismisses the thought because it is foolish. He surrounds himself with lies, and liars, and untruths. No one knows who he truly is, as is his wish, so no one knows how to hurt him. This in turn hurts him more, however, because he has forgotten who he is as well. He relies on others to remind him, but they fill his cup with shit time and time again. He apologizes because he can't think of anything else to do. He's not the one to apologize, and he knows it. But there is nothing else to do. He knows there will be better. He feels it. He recognizes the intangibility of knowing what it will look like, so he clings to the notion of the impossible. It's a familiar strategy, he took it from his own cup. Someone gave it to him, misunderstanding that it's not shit. Happiness is overrated, and he knows it. Emotions escape, numbness overtakes.

Don't Cry Out

Just some things that have been on my mind in regards to some people...

I have lost my inhibitions. How I've treated you the last few times I've been with you is how it should have been all along. I truly am sorry for the past. I hope you can forgive me and let it go, and things go back to how we left them. I still regret not giving you a chance, my reasons were not stellar. I didn't think you wanted me. I could talk all day about you, there's so much to like. When you're overwhelmed it can be a little tough, but I don't think it's as bad as you make it sound sometimes. You just need help.

I have genuine feelings for you. I don't know how or why, but I think you are amazing, I always have. You'll never read this, but it's true nonetheless, and maybe true more-so because you won't see this. I think about you a lot, the way I used to see you, how you've trusted me, and how close we are. I'm extremely glad I still have you. I want to make you feel absolutely on top of the world, and I think I could do it. I was absolutely overjoyed by your late-night text the other day. You are the only person I would even think about answering what you asked totally truthfully.

Oh boy. We weren't really friends until this last year, in fact, you hated me in fourth grade (haha). But what a great year for it. You're great. You help me see the positives in people, and you point out the negatives. Although I can get frustrated, there's no one better to talk through problems with. I don't help you as much as I should, but I wish I did. You make me feel better, and sometimes even like I'm a positive. Rarely do you say anything that I don't take to heart. I love the things you're interested in, and you are great at giving advice. Thank you.

I like you a lot. You have been great. We have so many overlapping interests. I hope I don't ever mess you up. I know you're probably discouraged by a lot I have done, but I really like you, so I hope it's not too bad. The talks we have are interesting and deep because we are honest, and there is no agenda.

You're a funny case. Too weird? Impossible, I like weird. But there's something different about you. Insincerity? Maybe, but I honestly don't think so. I really wouldn't know, though. My opinion of you changes a lot, but I think we could be great friends, eventually. I don't try to destroy everything good all the time, we just have different viewpoints. I wish you would see mine for a little bit, without it ruining you. You probably will never accept the bad parts, but I do wish you could hear me when I ask for help. Also, you make me feel very good about myself.

I don't know what to think of you. Sometimes you act like I'm some amazing person, and sometimes you make me feel like shit. I used to like you a little, but now I don't think I do. I just don't care enough to play your retarded game. We'll still have class, but you just don't get it.

Who are you? You seem so perfect, but I know that's not possible. Plus I only just met you, you're a virtual stranger. Everything you said when we talked rang true, however, and that is a rare quality. I don't think I'd be wrong to judge you as a great person, I mean, you defended rainy days as awesome, and who can argue with that? I sincerely hope I get over my shyness and get to know you. You seem like a much more together version of an introvert like me, except you also manage to have a lot of friends.

Home is Wherever

I finally feel at home in Denton. If it wasn't so fucking expensive to eat, I would feel at home AND not hungry. I only eat one meal a day to save, but when that meal is four cheeseburgers, nuggets, fries, and three feed, I'm not really sure I saved anything. In fact, I think I spent a little more than I would have. Whatever. I'm sick of the cold hearts. I know I'm one to talk, but seriously. Oh well. Met some new people, Ashley forces me to. She also forces me to take all of her trash because she's too lazy to get her own tray, but that's separate. She's become pretty cool, I guess. She's sorta the closest thing I have to a friend up here on weekends, but, whatever. I designed cars all day, only leaving my room once (and barely even dressed) to go to McDoland's. Not important. Neither is the cars thing. I don't know why I've been doing that. So lame, when you think about it.

Emotionally, other people kind of annoy me right now. There are those who are over-aggressive, never listening and always mentioning things that kill the conversation, so they can start a new one wherever it is they so please. Then, there are the "semi's." People who are almost as non-committal as I tend to be. I mean, if I want something, I want it. And if I don't know, then it's totally up in the air. But these people are those that act like they want something desperately, and then do everything to deny themselves it. I'm sorry, I'm sure this is extremely confusing. And of course, there are the people who live far away. These are the hardest, because they are the ones with real problems who I really care about, but I can't do anything about it.

Final point: Life's a bitch, and then you die. I'm not completely positive about that, but it seems like a sure bet. I know for certain that for people born in the 19th century, there's almost a 100% mortality rate, although half of the people who have ever been alive are alive today. Mind blowing. Wow, can anyone say off topic?

I don't know what I want. There are so many things to do, but so little that can be done. What happened to how we used to talk? I wish I could do something to help any one of three or four people, but I am totally useless.

I am rambling randomly, so this is as good a place as anything for my 'aha' moment. The song 'O Valencia' by the Decemberists has been stuck in my head recently, I really like some of the lyrics. After mentally reciting them, I realized it's Romeo and Juliet. How odd not to have realized that before. Whatever. Also stuck in the head right now, Lessons Learned by Matt & Kim, Out of Gas, and Missed the Boat by Modest Mouse. I do not know why this is relevant, but again, shouldn't I be used to this? I dunno. Not physically writing anything in my journal is hurting my coherence. Fuck it. I'm done for the night. I hope tomorrow is great, but I set no expectations. (Nec Spe, Nec Metu and all, y'know?)

Dream

Short and sweet. I had a dream about you the other night. You were riding in your car. Your friend was driving. I was riding in another car, and we passed you. As I stared out my window I saw you curled up on your seat, and you looked sad and lonely and lost. I pulled out my phone to call you, but the numbers I dialed wouldn't make sense. And then I had passed you already, and I was leaving you behind, and it made me sad to think about it.

I don't want this to happen.

Catch 22

I've been meaning to read that book.

How is it possible? If I say what I want to, I make everyone mad. If I say what everyone wants me to, everyone gets mad anyways. I've done it before. Why should I repeat it? I usually don't say anything. It's the fucking Nirvana Fallacy. There is either a right answer, or there is no answer at all, so I will do nothing. But sometimes, saying nothing is just as bad as not answering, I know. Almost nothing's changed. You would get angry, you did last time. Never mind that. When I say I don't know something, I genuinely don't know it. It's not like I spend my time plotting about how to piss off everyone who I care about.

There's something else, although it isn't related at all. Then again, when is anything I write ever coherent? The point I was trying to make in this paragraph was that I never have a point. In everything I write it seems like I keep wandering, always missing my "point." "But that's off topic," or "that wasn't the point." What the hell? Why do I seem convinced I have a point? I thought about that after the last post. I said it was pointless. I'm pretty sure it was (hint: they pretty much all are). But, I'm also pretty sure I said I missed my point in it.

Whatever, this is terrible. I can't think straight, and I am tired. Everything is all fucked up.

I Can't Win

I can already tell whoever cares that this is going to be a pointless post. I promise. It doesn't offend me if you just stop reading right now, because I'm just going to ramble. It'll tell about yesterday, and why I'm so fucking mad, but this is no earth shattering post. I swear. I'm winging it.

So yesterday, I was pretty damn mad, or upset. I don't really know which. Anyways, I finally got sick of my parents' house, so I took off for Denton at three in the afternoon. My mother force fed me chili before I went, despite the knowledge that I absolutely despise spicy (I would rather go hungry). I drove up to Denton with no stops and no problems, and finally felt at home. I love it up here. I'm not that far away, but emotionally, it's forever of a distance. Later on, I decided to send a message to a girl I hadn't talked to in quite a long time, being brutally honest about how I felt. She initially took it quite well, but then her problems arose. I remembered everything, and she was extremely doubtful that I had meant what I said. I definitely did, but I don't blame her for not believing me. The last I had talked to her, things were quite different. I mean, I have thought about it so much since it happened. Basically, I totally abandoned her. Not gonna lie, it was mostly in self-interest. But it wasn't because she wasn't absolutely amazing. It was because if I hadn't, I wouldn't feel right about it. So, I guess that's a little off-topic, although there isn't really a topic, so the out-of-place statement is this one... Whatever. Yesterday we talked until about eight o'clock, before I learned how upset she was. I didn't know what to do, so I drove out to her. For the few hours I had just holding her and talking about nothing in particular, I felt so good. I mean, I had hurt this girl more than she ever deserved, although I didn't mean to, and to get the chance to lay down in her bed with her was great. At twelve-thirty I left, with the promise that I wasn't leaving for a year again. I will be going back, I know. I got home in Denton (again) at around three in the morning. I had driven almost two hundred miles in one day. Every mile was worth it. Every solitary, music-filled, monotonous mile was worth it. I felt good. Driving itself had felt good. But most of all, I felt good because - only for a brief second - I remembered that there are other people in the world worth caring about. It was like a breath of fresh air. What a relief.

I suppose I really like driving. Only if I'm by myself, though. And nothing beats driving on a foggy night like last night. I would look out to my left, and see grass seamlessly blending into the stars above. Indistinguishable. I would look out to my right, and see the same thing. Looking straight ahead, I could see the dashed-white lines screaming past me, but I could only see one, or two lines ahead. I was in a silent bubble. Moving through the incredible void swiftly, but alone. There were no towns, there were no lights, there was nothing in any direction. Only the giant moon on my right, my music, and the road directly ahead.

I was shocked back into life when my alarm went off three hours later. Too early. My throat felt like I had eaten nothing but sandpaper, and my head was a cacophony of explosions, beautifully orchestrated to the pulse of my blood in my veins. Lovely day to die. I asked Brad if he would sign into our class for me, and he agreed, so I turned over and waited for oblivion to overtake me. Unfortunately, I was not to be so lucky. Today, as it so happens, has not been a happy day. The euphoria from the previous night wearing off, I settled back into reality. And my own fucked-up existence. First contact with the outside world for the new week, which I had struggled to avoid, was not exactly pleasant. It may have been good intentioned, but I don't really think so. Then I heard from her. She seemed happy, apparently. It was nice to know the last night hadn't been a cruel dream. Third, I heard from Ksenia, who I haven't talked to in years and years, since the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in high-school, to be exact. Nothing much there, just checking up, I suppose.

I am a very honest person. I tell you straight up what I think, and that is all. I do tend to want to please, so I will try to cushion the bad things, but I'm still going to tell you exactly what's wrong with you. I have tried that before. It was unappreciated. In fact, it was hated. I've never been so down. So now when I get asked the same question, and I know the answer hasn't changed much, why am I going to choose to relive the hell? I am not. At least, not right now. I hate this so much. When I am honest, it is under-appreciated. When I care, even though no one else will, it goes unnoticed. But when it's not me, for whatever reason, it's bliss. I'm beginning to think I'm alone. Someone needs to tell me it's worth it, even if it isn't. I'm done not caring, but now I've offended everyone possible. How can I care again without re-offending everyone? Besides, does it even matter? I'm starting to doubt it. I'd hate to see it leave, with everything I am, I would. But what ever changes?

See, I told you this meant nothing. If you've read this far (and not shot yourself - or me, for that matter) you should probably consult a professional. I'm sure I've ruined your life in some way as well.

Automatic Stop

Hmm. I don't really know how to organize everything I'm thinking. It's not all coherent. It doesn't all flow. Oh well, I guess we'll just see how it turns out.

Let's say there are two girls. Well, there are, but it's much simpler to think of it as only two for now. One of the girls has held me, and kissed me, and given me almost everything I've wanted, and promised me that there are so many who are just like her. But I don't want her at all. Then the other girl, who I have wanted before, generally couldn't care less. Why is it that it seems to be stuck this way? For the sake of simplification, I've got one who wants me, and one who I want. Why can't they be the same person? Ha. Oh well. Anyways, the real story is a lot more complicated than that. I have no idea where anything stands, and coming to terms with feelings is something I don't do very well. I'm not trying to be mean, but I probably don't know what I really think of you for a very long time. But there are plenty of people who I know exactly how I feel about right off-the-bat. These are the people I dislike. Very rarely am I wrong in making this kind of judgment. Out of ten people I meet, I'd be lucky to talk to just one of them. I don't like people. I don't know why. Out of those same ten people, I probably would dislike close to half of them, for whatever reasons, immediately. Usually, I am absolutely right in their flaws. Granted, the flaws are what makes something beautiful, but there is a point where it's just too much. Basically what I'm trying to say through this is that I am never wrong about people, because I simply don't allow enough people to get close to me for them to really hurt me.

I was wrong, though. I don't know why, but for whatever reason, I didn't really think one time, and I could not have been more off on deciding who it was who got the chance. Plus, I've been thinking about this all wrong anyways. It's who gets the chance, not who gives me a chance. It's not my loss. There are 200,000 people born everyday, after all. One of them is better than you. It's a statistical fact. I feel like I'm wandering, and I kinda forgot where my train of thought was headed. Not an uncommon occurrence at all anymore these days, unfortunately. The point I guess I was getting to I already mentioned, somehow. Why can't the person we love and the person who loves us be the same person?

Granted (no idea how many times I've said 'granted' lately), there aren't just the two girls. There are plenty. And there are plenty of feelings all around. I don't know. I again seem to have forgotten what I was saying. "Words can never do my feelings justice," anyways.

For some reason, a list just came to mind. And if for nothing else but to remember it, I'm going to put it here.

• Smoking is the most unattractive thing a girl can do. Hands down. Ugly.
• Despite what everyone of you say, I need it. It's not a want. Its need consumes me.
• ANGER
• I could use my new team, maybe it will help me. I have missed the camaraderie.
• I need a new iPod, because mine sucks.
• Most tattoos are absolutely ridiculously retarded.
  
• I promise I don't take you for granted (that's to a lot of people). You know that I don't, I suspect. It's just that, what you're trying to convince me of isn't real to me. It just doesn't exist. I am sorry for that.
• Things could be different, but I don't care. I was wrong.
  

You are a

perfect stranger to me. I know some of the people who read this. I have learned that there are a few people who read this, who I didn't know knew it existed. And then there is you, and you are the unknown. The stranger. The person who I would never know. Of course, sometimes the perfect stranger does know me, but I rather like not knowing who reads this. Security in anonymity, right? It feels good. But everyone who reads this should get to know me. I'm not depressed all the time. Give me something to be happy about. Even people who have spent tons of time with me don't know too much about me.

The world's population increases by over two hundred thousand people every day. I recently learned this after seeing a chart with the world's population per month over the last two years. Curiosity had me calculating, and now I wish I didn't. I feel so small. I am so insignificant. Also an odd statistic, over half of all humans who have ever lived are alive right now. Strange. At least I'm not contemplating how small we are? I dunno. It's almost worse to be stuck thinking about our individual insignificance. Anyways, that was definitely not the point of this post, ha.

Easter eggs are the point of this post. I'm not talking about the pastel-colored plastic eggs that people search for on the holiday. I mean the hidden secrets placed in various things as covert nods, thank-yous, messages, or laughs for other people. The intention is odd. They have to be discovered to be realized, and realized to be fun, but the better hidden they are, the more fun they are. The realization of the intention to create a hidden message is obscure, because one can never be sure of the author's intention. More importantly, the mere thought that these secrets could be the author giving credit or sending a message to someone or something is what makes them fun. These Easter eggs of mystery are hidden all around us. They are right here. They are in popular things. Bradley and I have been playing a game called Borderlands, which has several Easter eggs to find. One of the objects early in the game is to kill a bandit named Mad Mel (Mad Max, who was played by Mel Gibson). Two 'achievements' in the game are "On A Boat," (SNL) and "1.21 Gigawatts" (Back to the Future). These serve absolutely no point, but they are fun to discover. I don't know. So what's my secret? As of now, I did not believe it. At my core I did not believe it at all. But I am beginning to think it is true. Anyways...

Please, let me know what you're thinking. I really want to know you. As I write this, I look out at the campus, and I see a thousand strangers. Maybe one of them has read this. I like knowing that perhaps someone there knows me, only they don't know that I'm me. It makes me feel like a secret. A secret I will share with anyone, but only each person individually. I am your secret, and you are mine. People suck. Fuck them, because we have each other, and that's all we need.

disappointment.

We always seem to end up right where we started. It's ridiculous, I know you'd agree. I remember saying many things several months ago about how I felt, and for this whole year I've thought about how ridiculous and stupid what I said was. I was just wanting her back. We lived so far away, we both knew it would never work, but for a brief while, when we were together, it was pretty excellent. I would call it the closest I've ever been to bliss. Just holding her was unbelievable, and she would hold me back. Imagine the difference between a blizzard and a day in November. Warmth. Warmth is the difference. The warmth is what I felt. We made each other feel good. But we did know that it was only for so long. It wasn't our choice, but perhaps it was for the better good. After some failures three years later, I was convinced that it had been as good as it was ever going to get already. I wanted the past back with all my heart. Then, I tried my best to buck up and get over myself, so I took a few girls out. This was around December of last year. They may have cared, they may not have, who cares. Fuck them. This is where the beast started taking hold. None of the people I met ever felt right, and those who were close had an absolutely overbearing flaw to them. And not one of the kinds that eventually you grow to like, the kinds that are in their way, not mine. I was told each and every time that I am "a great guy", and all that shit, ultimately still a rejection anyways. I got so sick of hearing that, and from people who I didn't need at all anyways. Whatever, who cares. That is, until I snapped. One too many times, I was too sick of it. You can only sink so low. So tired of trying. I had done too much. I gave up; something I had never fathomed I would even contemplate. I gave completely up. Nec Spe, Nec Metu. I had no fear, because I had no hope. Hopelessness is a really fucking depressing thing. Fortunately, it seemed to be just what I needed, because I started feeling slightly better. I did not care. Period. At all. I could not have given a shit about anyone or anything anywhere. It began to reflect in myself. Not caring felt genuinely good. I came off as a cold-hearted asshole to most people, but I never was exactly nice, and I kinda was cold-hearted. Ha. But then something happened to crush my work and change my view again. For the first time ever, I was wanted first. None of this, 'you text me first' or this 'but you have to ask me out' shit, it was just plain and simple. But now, I feel in the same place as I always end up, yearning for the one good time I've ever had. I know there will be better, but I'm still not likely to actually believe that... I don't actually want the good time back either, I know how much I learned from it. I don't want it, but it sure seems like I do. I don't know what I actually want, just like I don't know how I actually feel. Sandi's right about feelings and the rest of the world, but I already knew that. My problem with what she said is that I don't know how I actually feel anymore. Numb, I guess? One of my favorite brain quotes (who am I kidding, there are only like, two, so this might as well be the only one and thereby my favorite) is that "Experts have figured out that the brain has no ability to actually predict your emotional reaction to life changes that haven't happened yet. In other words, you physically do not know what you want. The act of sitting around pondering it is apparently what fucks you up." That said, I don't know what to do. I forgot where I was going with this whole thing (memory loss is the worst). Anyway, I don't care. At least, I don't think I do. I mean, I know I do, but I don't care at all? Fuck. I just confused myself. How about I recognize that I shouldn't care? Who cares, whatever. Haha, ironic. I am lost and I am scared, and so are you. And if you're not scared, you're not understanding what I'm saying. And if you're not lost, then you're even more naive than I am. Anger is overtaking me now, so I guess I do care after all, but I shouldn't. I don't want to.

Nec Spe, Nec Metu

Thanks for stating the obvious, Sherlock

So, in case you haven't noticed, I haven't posted in a very long time. The whole "write a book through the blog" idea sorta stalled, mainly because to get feedback I had to give away the ending, which led me to write non-continuous chapters. I'll post everything I wrote sometime later, because eventually I would like to actually finish one damn book. The other reason I haven't really been on here lately (aside from being busy) is that I just haven't cared recently. I haven't needed to outlet anything, so I haven't written anything.

I don't give two shits anymore. I hate feeling that way. I don't know how I feel. I know I care deeply. I am disappointed, I am unsure, I don't know what I want. Today I really just needed someone to talk to, but everyone I went to decided I was not important. I gave people a chance, I listened, but when I need someone to talk to, no one wants to. So I'm back to writing here. Not that I care if anyone reads this, but because you, my stranger, took the time to read it. And the fact that you're still reading means you care, even if it's just a little bit. I thank you for that, I need it.

Back to my original thought idea, today I felt extremely weird. I thought about things, and I didn't understand what I was thinking. I don't know what's going on, and I don't like the feeling. The only conclusion I came to was that maybe I was just fucking sick of it and didn't care anymore, but I know that's not true. In Biology I couldn't handle it anymore, so I told Heather about a small fraction of the shit that is my fucked-up existence. She said something very interesting. When I told her (vaguely) that 'people' were bothering me, and I wasn't sure how I felt, she told me that I shouldn't let people bother me. I had never thought of it that way. It made me think that it might be part of the odd feeling; the fact that I'm so used to being bothered by people, that when I stop caring for just a little it feels very alien.

I don't know what my problem is, but there's no escape. I go to a psychiatrist tomorrow for depression. I still don't think I'm depressed, but it's hard to argue with how I come off. There are so many things I could fix, but nothing I could make more perfect. I am deeply, deeply upset. "I just wanted to hold you in my arms" - Muse. I have decided (after much reading) that I have a new label for myself:

Cameron - A probable victim of either the Nirvana Fallacy, depression, or both; although I'd hate to admit to any of them.
Nec Spe, Nec Metu

Chapter One

He sits against the wall, panting hard from running so long. Hunger is overtaking him; he hasn't eaten in three days. Reflecting on his situation, the dangerous trip to what was the old supermarket is justified by the ever continuing need for food to survive. He had thought of simply taking over the whole building before, of arming it to the teeth and defending it. He knew in the back of his mind what a death sentence that was, however. To do that would be to corner himself, living safely until he ran out of either food or ammunition. Then it would be worse than before. No, it was much safer to hide. To run away. To quickly steal only what he needed to live, then retreat to safety. The world is a living hell. There's no escaping that fact. His entire existence consists of running and hiding at night, and sleeping during the day. The monsters hate the daylight. They can't get him during it. Therefore he has become nocturnal, only going out when the sun is gone and it is dark; only going out when the monsters are active and looking to feed. It's an unfortunate paradox, but it's better than spending his most vulnerable time sleeping while he is hunted from every direction. With his breathing now more under control, he quickly scans his surroundings. There's the old police-station down the street to his left, an old 7/11 next to it, and the back entrance of the supermarket he came for sitting right between the two. Peeking both ways down the street from out of the alley, he decides that the coast is clear, so he makes a dash for it. Being careful to remain in the shadows and not make any more noise than necessary, he runs to the back of the gas station, hops the chain-link fence, and ducks down in a low ditch with a view of the door. Pausing a moment to catch his breath and listen, he again concludes that he is undetected, so he slinks up to the door and goes to work on the lock. Open in less than a minute, he quietly cracks it open and slips through. It is dim inside, but there is a light coming from somewhere. He can feel their presence. Smell their stink. The monsters are here. On his guard, he moves quickly to the canned goods aisle. He grabs as many cans of food as he can stuff into his backpack. Speed is his friend, and he only wants one more thing before he can leave and hide for the remainder of the night. It's a dangerous move, but in this world he finds the small comforts of the old days much more satisfying. He is at the aisle now. Briskly tiptoeing down the row, he finds the Fritos and is just about to grab a bag when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. A monster has found him. He rips the chips off the shelf and sprints for the back door, bashing it open and running into the dark night. Sounds are heard, more monsters are aware. He throws caution to the wind and runs in a straight line, disregarding sneaking in favor of the fastest route. He's already been seen, he doesn't have time to be careful. He's past the police station now, his lungs burning with the effort of sprinting flat out. At last he makes it to his alley, baseball sliding to the end where his entrance is. He finds the hidden hole, and drops carefully down the ladder, sliding the manhole cover over his head at the end. The sewers. Nasty. They do offer a quick and relatively safe way around the old city though. And with the exception of the one monster he killed, they don't seem to wander down here often. Plus, they seem to know they could never catch him in here. He's become an expert at navigating every single passage of the old city's septic system. He turns down an auxiliary passage, avoiding the main sewage line altogether. It's not that much faster to take the big passage, and there's no sense risking being killed in case the monsters did happen to follow him this time. It's a little less than twenty minutes to his destination through the sewers, and he makes the journey safely. Slowly pushing up the cover inside his de-facto dwelling, he looks in every direction before deciding the coast is clear. Hopping up into the room, he closes the ladder hole and secures it tight with a bike lock. He's in an old culvert with a small, grated drain from the street in the low ceiling. It measures roughly eight by eight feet, stinks like none other, and contains only a sleeping bag, TV-DVD combo, bookshelf, and microwave. "Home sweet home, I guess," he thinks to himself. Yes, welcome to his humble home.

The Conception

Oh fuck. You better watch out. I think I'm pretty excited. There's a new project on my mind. I plan to start it tomorrow. It's going to be epic. With your encouragement I think I can do it. Wait, watch out, it's going to be so awesome. You are the first ones to see it. My fucked up world is being set aside, and I am creating a new one, right here. One step at a time, I hope to build an epic. One post at a time, I can do this. Hopefully if it's broken into small enough chunks and shared I won't have time to refute it, I won't have time to call it shit and destroy it. In the coming posts, please comment any and all supplemental ideas you have for me. I can't wait. You shouldn't be able to either, but I can't tell you what to feel. You're perfectly allowed to think my idea is retarded. I sincerely hope you'll help me though.

It's going to be awesome, I promise. Just wait and I'll show you.

Cloud Nine

There was a hopelessness that permeated my world, emanating from my skin, soaking into all my organs. My stomach no longer bothered to call attention to itself. Instead, it swallowed its growls, seeking nourishment in emptiness. Except I am not hopeless. I am filled with hope. And this hope is killing me, eating my consciousness from the inside out. My heart begs me to believe that everything is okay, but it is continually destroyed. My brain knows that there will be many others, but I find myself refusing to let go.

Many Thoughts, Many People

Now, before I go off offending anyone, I'd like to note that this is a sloppy collection of thoughts about many people. It's not in any order at all, and it's not about any one person. It is about a lot of different people, and I will never tell anyone who is who. Not that it matters. This just feels sort of akin to one of those 'private entries' that I seem to believe I could maybe get off my chest, provided there's sufficient anonymity. I thought I might as well give it a try. This was not meant for any purpose, it is simply some things I thought.

I wish I hadn't given you up. I had a golden opportunity but I gave it up. Sometimes I think about what it would be like if I hadn't, and I get mad. I think you're great. I really wish I didn't have feelings, and I could be a shallow asshole. I know it would be amazing. I really wish you would give me a chance. You have no idea. Sometimes I think you missed out, and sometimes I think I did. However, every time I think about it I am immensely happy that things between us ended. You two could have been something special. But you weren't, and there's no harm there. I hate you both and your fakeness. Sometimes I regret ever meeting you. Our time was so short, yet you fucked me up in so many ways (Hahaha, ironic). I think I've cared about you more than anyone else I've ever known combined. The three(?) of you treated me like shit and I fucking despise you all. I hate how I feel like I have to fake that I like you at all, you whore. To be perfectly honest, I only talked to you because I thought you were pretty. I'm glad I did, but it doesn't seem like how it should have been. I've actually thought about you before, believe it or not. I think you could be attractive if you weren't such a retard (Not that I'd ever want you, Haha). Too bad. I hate your personality, if it weren't for that, I would probably like you. Self-centered bitch. I secretly liked you for a long time. I hate talking around you because I feel like someone around us always knows something about me and wants me to talk about it, and I think it shuts you down. I never even talked to you. I really wish I would have. Ha. You are an enigma to me, I don't try to deny that. Every time I see you I am reminded of how I liked you, got over it, wondered why I ever did, then became your friend, and how now I think you're kind of a bitch. We had some... interesting... things. I don't know why I was ever attracted to you, because honestly, I find you a tad annoying. I can't remember anyone being as great as you, even though you also kill me. I love all your flaws. You are perfectly imperfect. Haha, I don't like you, but I can see what you think of me, and I think it's amusing how quickly you would change your opinions of me, as you already have once. You're strange... Sometimes I am jealous of you, but we wouldn't work together anyways. Thank you and you and you for always talking to me, and thank you for making me feel good about myself. Thank you, Ciera (No point not telling you... ha) for commenting on some of my posts, even though I don't really know you, and for making me feel like I write some good things. I'm a little sorry for how I handled things with you, I don't think you're anything too special, and I wanted to bring you back down to Earth, a little bit. Haha, still, I was pretty harsh and blunt, sorry. I don't know much about you, but I think you're quite nice, and pretty, and I wish we could've gotten to know each other. You are pretty awesome... I wonder what things would be like sometimes. Ha. I still think of one night with you and how different things would be. You were remarkable, way to fuck your life up, haha. I do wish we would have stayed friends though. You could have used someone to talk to. Ha, I had a chance to play the asshole, but I passed it up. Too bad I ruined a friendship with you to do it. Oh well. You are breathtaking. There's just too much I could say about you.