I've found myself a liar in a mirror, and he's fun to talk to.

So ends Fall, and the onslaught of Winter begins.

Winter is hell. Every hell imaginable.
Although I'm sure it's debated which is worse, a death by fire or by freezing, I'll be the one to side with slowly dying by lack of heat is a pathetic and incredibly horrific way to go.

That being said, I would just love to die from a lightning strike. That would be the most fulfilling moment of my life. I don't have a deathwish, but being killed by a natural phenomenon and electricity somehow makes me think that is the most bad ass cause of death. I'd hate to drown, freeze to death, burn to death, die of old age, diseases and/or on a surgical table somewhere.

But death by the all famous Zeus' Wrath? Sure, go ahead and turn me into a metal rod.

But I have more expectations of my life to let it end any time soon. I have matured, like a caterpiller into a butterfly. Except not really. (For those of you that don't know, a caterpiller that goes into a cocoon isn't the butterfly that comes out.) I have more or less had my tumor of intelligence removed alongside my depression, and so now I lack any motivation but to live, eat, breathe, shit, and sleep. Not in that order. And there may be a few other things. But it seems like in a week I only have eighteen hours that seem any different from one another. Just like in a blizzard, everything really gets whited out to be the same.

It's odd, I don't know who I am anymore, but whenever I write, through stories or this blog, I always sound the same, just a bit older and a bit more immature. All my life, I've lived a shaken snow globe, and in the blizzard you can't see the town, so it's odd for me to know where I am when it all settles down.

So status update; I'm alive, without love yet still wide-eyed in my time, I'm doing just fine getting my gangster Bachelor's Degree and later my all-powerful Master's Degree.

"But what field?!" I hear the crowd shout. But what else could I major in? Journalism, of course, is all I can seek. "But won't you be poor and start living on dirt floors?!" But of course! It's all I can do to make myself seem legitimate and dedicated, considering I've never worked a god damned day in my life. I mean really, if someone came up and offered me a job, I'd take it. Seriously. I need money.

Worrying about other people is my [favorite past time] / [part time job]. I try to be the most reliable person for anyone other than myself. Although, once whatever problem is dealt with, I completely ignore the person I was helping. I think it's because I can't stand to have anyone I know be upset except for myself. I don't know what to call it, it's simply my condition. I'm not interested in breaking down my psychological processes. It's a pain in the ass.

So I might fail college. Probably not, but I should put a lot more effort in. Funny, I should be writing my speech paper and finishing a story that someone commissioned, but I find myself updating my blog.

It's 'cause I find talking to no-one more entertaining than my other priorities.

I don't think people should talk to me. I want people to want to talk to me.