Yeah, I know...it's a second posting for today. But I didn't see a reason to edit the old one. An edit is a correction when a change is involved. Nothing with me has changed. An update on the other hand is when something new happens with a given amount of time. Time...such as between now and my earlier posting. *shakes head* Sorry, after playing pic-ionary for two and a half hours at Barnes and Noble with Kei, Erin and my younger brother, Rob. I actually caught myself laughing and smiling. It was wierd. I miss moments like that. I mean...just sitting around with my friends talking about other friends, anime, art, and so on with no place important to be. Man, I was surprised when Kei's mom came to get him. I looked at my watch and more than two hours had passed. It'd only felt like 15 minutes. *sighs* I've been thinking. Yeah, I know that's a bad thing. But honestly, I understand that I'm only 18 and have only discovered a fraction of a decimal of the infinite surprises life has instore for us. I truly understand that. Yet, there was a time I knew what I was moving towards the future for. I was going to graduate highschool, go to Chicago to study art, graduate college, and then try to have a successful carreer out of all that. But now...now I just don't get it. I don't know where I'm going anylonger. *sighs and shakes head* God, I hate comparing myself to an anime character, as it makes me out to be too uber fanboyish, but I feel like Yusuke Urameshi and life is Yomi. But unlike Yusuke...SPOILER!!!...as life as me by the throat, an is beating the very life out of me, I know I won't remember what I'm fighting for and come back to win this fight. The fight is completely out of me and I can't find that light that kept me going. I'm a kid cowering behind a sketch book screaming to a crowd of blind loved ones, trying to get them to see me. Everyone keeps telling me to stop hiding...to take the risk...to just be myself. But why? Why do it when the effort is only going to slap me in the face? When all thats left is me hating myself for not being what was need? At least when I'm hiding, no one can see my tears. No one can no I'm weak. When I'm pushing myself to my limits, making every part of me ache in pain and sick to my stomach all in the hopes of changing, at least there's a dream in my sight....something to reach my hands out for. As much as I boast to being Superman, I'm nothing more than a weak dimwit. I don't have the muscles, the strength, the invunerablity, the powers, the chiseled jawline...you know: the things that get you known, admired...even liked. I stop hiding, I lose my dreams...no matter how fictious they are...or once were. Everybody expects so much from someone worth so little. I'm an artist, some where in this tattered shell called a body, so I know all about imagination and believing beyond what your eyes show you. But honestly...I'm just a kid without a dream...a future...or a purpose. A loser without hope is nothing but a loser walking alone in the shadows.