I Think I'll Start Writing Letters

I think I'll start writing letters again.  No manipulation attempts this time.  Straight on to what I'm feeling, and I'm not going to hide that I love her this time, mixed with a little humor.

I must also apologize for pressing her too much?  Maybe I pressed her too much without really realizing it except for now, and I expected her to press me too but she never did... I don't know, but it shouldn't be creepy or anything because we were friends... really good friends if I believe.

And also, I have to thank her for the change in my career path... maybe I was never interested after all in Bio, maybe I was but after learning a bit, I already learned what I wanted to learn from it already, but I wasn't interested in my future that I think I was going to do.

Or maybe I'll write letters but never send it to her.

The only thing I didn't like about her was how she didn't like me back... or showed that she didn't like me back.

Thinking about what other people may be thinking as you walk pass them is incredibly funny.

Things I Like About Her

-She doesn't force me to talk
-She talks to me
-She can shape shift and have a different appearance in each of her pictures.
-We have similar backgrounds
-She does fun things and I like tagging along
-Just her aura
-Laughs a lot

I'll keep it at seven for now, since seven is sort of my number.  Holy shit, like five months without talking and I think about her at least every hour, or at least once in a ten minute span... or even once every minute.  Shit. I guess I do love her... or IDK, I just feel that I can't break through any of these barriers, these barriers that an online-only interaction can create.  And with each try, I get limited even more.  It's like the only way to break it is for her to just talk to me again.

Beyond good and evil, beyond good and evil, beyond good and evil. 

light blue jeans

When I see people wear them I automatically think that I'm better than them in everything... just because they're wearing that faggy color. So funny, faggot.

Also thought of this story idea, where someone sees the truth.. and the truth is that everyone's life purpose is to have their soul end up in this one place (equivalent to hell) and stuff happens, so everything everyone has done is meaningless!

haircut

I have been going to the same haircut lady for five years.  She knows my name and everything, but we barely talk.

Yesterday was just one question.  She asked, what do you do when you're at home?  Play with your friends?

And I say... "...yeah."

I don't like how people say "I'm weird." Not me, as in me me.  But when other people who are not me just say "I'm weird." Well, shit, no you aren't!

This.

This is how you become reclusive.

Friends leaving you for other people.
No where else to express hate.
Being naturally reserved.
Not knowing what happened....

I feel like randomly tripping people walking down aisles.

Anyways, some thoughts:

Maybe I should transgender myself, and call myself a lesbian.  Just like Oshima in Kafka but instead of a girl turning into a guy but being attractive to guys, I'll turn myself into a female (but be attracted to girls).

I think in the future I'll put weeds in pots, and grow fields of flowers.  But my main plants that would be in pots would be different species of weeds.

I think the only way guys can get away with being sensitive is to make it funny somehow.

ugh why can't I just be a recluse all my life... I can but... there's really nothing I can do to get revenge on those people who I just hate so much...

awh fuck 2

She wasn't in a relationship.  She was single.

THAT MEANS I SHOULD HAVE JUST WROTE LOVE LETTERS.

... and dammit, I think she thinks I'm a loser.  I have to show that I'm not a loser and I can only do that IRL so fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.  If only I held on until July 3... shit!  Some patient person I am.

Trying too hard

I notice I try really hard to show who I am in person, online.

And in person, I try my best to show who I am online...

Anyways.



I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

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I don't know shit about her.

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I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

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I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.

I don't know shit about her.