Monday, April 10, 2006


I really never get around to editing this anymore, but hey, it's not like anyone actually reads this. I guess I'm wasting my time or whatever, but I really don't give a damn. My life is really wierd right now, I get the feeling that something is missing. It used to be, I'd go to school, come home and relax. That was all I ever wanted, and I tried to blow off any inconsistancies in this formula. Crack a joke, ignore a problem- whatever it took to follow this, I'd gladly ablidge. But it's different now, perhaps I think about things too much- or atleast, I know I think about things diffently than most people. It seems like everyone else is happy, they don't seem to worry about the things I worry about- people to me don't seem real. In the sense that they seem to have their personalities all set up and perfected- not that I think it's all an act, not for a moment did I ever think that, but it's deeper than that. I seem to sway between ideologies, between hatred and love, between indifference and passion. It's not that I don't have passions for things- I've always loved computers. But do I really love computers? Sure, I use computers alot- know alot about them and such, but I don't know if that constitutes love. It seems like no person can ever love something all the time anyway, since I couldn't be never frustrated with technology- hence my dilemma.

In what facet of time does it take for one to constitute a love for something? I could say that I loved something one minute, and be irritated the next. Was I lying? It's sort of the old relativity deal, with the lighting strikes on the moving train, which observer is right? In this fashion, how are we certain that we are not all crazy?


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