wilco There must be something wrong in this world because I feel like I’m sinking. I keep going back against everything I say, and I’m trying to stick to things so hard. I’m taking things back the same day I say them. It’s a mistake to say that I’m alright, but everything seems to be a mistake these days. Things are starting to hurt again, and I think I’m losing myself more and more everyday. This is a reoccurring theme in my life, and it’s like a record that keeps skipping. I feel like I’m just replaying my days over and over. If you have ever seen the movie Groundhog Day, that is exactly how I feel, only I’m not able to do it all right. And if I fall off the cliff, I don’t get a tomorrow. I just make mistake after mistake, and now matter how I try to fix them, something happens again, and everything is wrong. I think I have to go back somewhere, and look at where this horrid change of events took place, because my whole life seems ruined. I feel like I’m dying. I’ve developed a horrible shake; something like an alcoholic would possess, and maybe that is the root of this new problem. I don’t know, but there has to be a reason for this, along with everything else that is wrong. I didn’t want to wind up this way. I certainly never wanted to grow up so quickly. I feel horrible. I’m going to smoke. I doubt it will make anything better, but that heavy feeling makes everything seem alright for a few minutes. --- it stopped the shaking, and woke me up. The Society of Others might be one of the best books I have ever read but I’m not going to say that is, because I tend to love all the books I read that are any good. It’s not that I’m just in love with anything written, I just like things that are good, and seem honest, even when it’s a fiction novel. So this book that I read while I was on vacation in Maine this past summer was very amazing. I read it in a day and a half, and no one saw me without it for those two days, except for the part before I bought it. It’s very good, and I’d advise you to read it, if I knew what type of person you were, and what sort of books you like reading – if you like reading at all. I guess I read a lot. I do all the time, and I have a tendency to reread the same books at least four times if I really like them. The only book I have ever read, and didn’t buy after reading, or didn’t buy and read, that I loved, was the Perks of Being a Wallflower. I’m not sure why I never bought it, I thought about it several times, but every time I went to the store to buy the damn book, I’d put it back on the self. It’s just to special of a book to buy for me. I think it would take something away from it if I bought it, there’s just something about that book that if you read it one night, and finish it the same night, and you never buy it, and read it at least seven more times, you can’t bring yourself to buy it, because there is that mystery of if you would read it if you did buy it, or something like that. I don’t know. But I’ve never bought it, and I’m still not planning on buying it. Where would we be without wishful thinking? so I write papers for no reason. I write them, and then I never give them to anyone, never let anyone read them, and get rid of them. Why I do this is beyond me, but I do it. It might be a bad habit, but it works on my grammar, which I do need work on. I have this theory that if you start a sentence with a conjunction, you just don’t capitalize it; maybe it’s to make up for starting the sentence with a conjunction when you aren’t supposed to, but that doesn’t fix anything, and then you just have two errors instead of one. I have a knack for putting too many spaces between paragraphs, and I write sentences that are too long to sound like a normal human. This gives my writing the feel that I’m just trying to sound smarter, or something, and it tends to make the bigger words seem bigger than they are, and give it the feeling that some professor wrote it about a scientific study. The truth is, it’s just how my mind works, I put everything together, and the ideas tend to mesh together when they have nothing to do with anything. At least I use the appropriate grammar when I do this; it makes up for it somehow, like the un-capitalizing of conjunctions. Maybe I’m just a loser, with too much time to do nothing important. I’m never out, and I rarely have plans. It’s just who I am, and I should desperately get a life, and take off this jacket, because I smell like smoke, and it’s a grotesque smell. And a filthy habit at that, but still, it calms me, and I apparently shake when I don’t for a day or so. Does that mean I have an addiction? Heaven forbid. love