Thursday, August 30, 2007

This is the emo-est you'll ever see me:


The nice thing about dead friends, it's that they don't ignore you... anymore.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

I've been going to bed real early lately. Like 8-9pm.

I'm just bored with reality.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

I've spent the day mostly thinking about the deads... the dead people that I've befriended and lost. Those who might or might not be dead by now, only I just don't know where they are if they are still alive.

I miss them.

Why do I have that much trouble with the livings? Why must I always isolate myself? Keep people at a distance? Am I trying to protect myself from disappointment?

I can make the deads say whatever I want, now. The deads all love me, by the way. They all wish me to become a great man. They all believe in me.

Friday, August 17, 2007

For a good cause...

I'm one of those guys who believe love to be nothing more than neuro-chemistry. Yet, I'd want few things more than that neuro-chemical goodness, in all honesty. I need endorphins and dopamine (I'd especially like to keep a high level of dopamine in my nervous system, because its depletion may cause Parkinson's disease, which I might one day be subjected to, seeing how it is present in my family). Most of all, I'm tired of feeling like crap. Unmotivated crap.

I've only ever felt good when I've been writing, or when I've allowed myself to fall in love. Unfortunately, these loves never went anywhere, and I don't write enough to get my dopamine fix. Maybe this is why I'm so expressionless. I barely smile at all. I never get really excited. I never get really sad either. Neuro-transmitters are responsible for emotions, and I don't seem to show any. Maybe is it just neuro-chemistry. All these years wondering why I was who I was, not once guessing my problem didn't lie within the confines of an identity crisis, or existential crisis, but rather in a chemical balance, or a lack thereof.

I don't want the chemical way, though. So, I need more writing and more love. Someone, please, love me, and save from Parkinson's disease.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Uncling and more uncling.

My uncling (the action of being an uncle) seems to be real good, since my brother and his wife are expecting another child. They must have felt so confident, considering how great an uncle I am, that bringing a third (or maybe third and fourth, you just never know) didn't seem that scary. Sure, my support isn't vocal. My support isn't monetary either. It's not to be calculated in terms of time spent. You can't see it, or point a finger at it. But it's there. You feel it.

Is it really my uncling skills, or that fact that I'm just the greatest guy in the world (until proven otherwise)? It's hard to tell, I know.

I heard the news today, mostly because they've started spreading the news today. They would have done it yesterday, but no one was home. So, they told my parents (actually, the twins told my parents... they just can't shut up for dramatic effect, can they?!), and during my lunchtime (yes, I worked today), I went home to eat something quick, and I was told. But on the way back to work, I started thinking: "Wow... that kid will be born and I will be living thousands of miles away, 3 time zones away. How long will I stay away? Will I be a stranger to this new nephew or niece all my life?"

It really has me thinking, and it's nagging, you know. I don't like having thoughts forced upon my consciousness. All these questions, including the oh-so-important: "Could that kid develop properly and live a happy life not knowing the greatest guy in the world (until proven otherwise)?"