If a robber is caught by the police, but the person he robbed from didn’t want to press charges, would it be fair to the other people he had stolen from? If a mayor’s daughter was murdered, and the mayor insists on putting all the police efforts on catching the killer, would it be fair to the other families whose loved ones were murdered by other people?

There are rules against this, of course. But the human component of insistence, persistence, cunning, and that particular habit of picking which rules apply to oneself steps in to ensure that one gets what one desires. It is this very thing that fucking pisses me off.

How can one stay objective and fair if things are taken into personal account? How can one’s judgment not be clouded when personal “feelings” are at stake (especially that most annoying thing called pride)? Every little thing is a personal matter in one way or another.

I am so incredibly confused and annoyed.

I wasted four months of my life on that stupid game. Man. (I’m still at it though; but not as much. EH CRIMMY <3)

Lately I have been looking to other people for some kind of approval that what I’m doing is not completely useless. I’ve noticed that it’s growing in frequency as the years go by. Naturally I’d put on some bullshit about not caring what people think; but there are these people in my life whose opinions I value so much that it’d probably a big hit to my pride if they ever said anything negative about me or what I’m doing.

No—I’d probably want to dig a hole and die in it—would be a better way to put it.

God. When did I become this spineless? Or maybe I’m just not satisfied anymore.

I lack the experience and knowledge to fuel more than three quarters of my multiple plots. I have so much I want to do beyond simply reading about things like scent-detection or the subtle magic of creating perfumes. My brainstorming thoughts are becoming more disjointed and more vague by the week. If I keep this up, for sure I will lose yet another skill I’ve striven to culture since childhood.

Yes. I know I am holding myself back. I don’t know why; paranoia, maybe…that incorrigible niggling in your gut that feeds the darkness and despair in your mind that tells you how useless you are to even bother trying.

Some days I just want to let it all out and scream like a madwoman. I feel so stifled by my own inadequacies and expectations, so used to getting things right the first time. I have a certainty that this frustration will one day kill me. I just know it.

This isn’t the reason why I can’t sleep, although it plays a small part. I am thoroughly convinced that my brothers are plotting my death, or are waiting for me to snap, or kill myself. I don’t think I’ll give them the satisfaction. So instead of being rudely awakened at an ungodly hour for the third day in a row, I am simply staying up.

..and I will crash in the middle of the day.

Yes. 4am is an ungodly hour for a person who indulges in sleep.

Isn’t it scary? Exciting?

I really do have a sick fascination with finding scary things exciting. What will I do in 2009…

What will you do?

I’m like a dog chasing cars. I don’t know what to do when I actually catch them. I just DO things.

The only morality in this world is chance.

Not in the sense that I can’t decide whether to give in or keep resisting.

But in the sense that I… don’t know what to do. My activities have come to a standstill, all my projects, or whatever they are called, are nowhere to be found. …They really are just kept around here somewhere, it’s just that I’ve kept them in different places that I’ve lost interest in ever trying to organize them.

I like my way of thinking. My solutions just slap me in the face and call me stupid. I need to organize things before adding more shit to my pile.

I also need to learn how to throw away things. I mean, geez. Scraps of paper napkins with messily written codes or ideas. >_>

I hadn’t realized how selective I’ve become with the people I associate with, at least on a much deeper level than ‘acquaintance.’ Meh. Well..

How much can you know about a person though? I always think it’s subjective, that it depends on how much of themself said person wants to reveal. That part scares me. Yet I do the same thing. (Trust issues much?)

Recently, I’ve been syncing a lot often with a couple of people (*cough*Catwin*cough*). It’s kind of like completing sentences, only in a much creepier way since we often come up with the exact same words. For example, a phone conversation in the kitchen:

C: Okay, so her name will be Cain.
M: Yes.
C: Last name… last name…
M: *rummaging through fridge, intent on finding space* Emerson.
C: –merson.
M: *stuffs* ….
C: ….
M+C: *implodes*

It’s almost as creepy as the dreams.

Happy Thanksgiving.

What’s in your wallet?