A wonderful little story about two books.

This may be the best way to get any points accross at this place in my life, maybe I too can screw this up for the worse.

I have a problem, what it is I don't know but I know it's there. An addiction? perhaps it is. To what? That is what I don't know. Do I really lie to myself, do I really make up the stories in my head?

This isn't right. You're not supposed to question your own thoughts making sure that you are thinking from a credible stand point. It is something that is extremely hard to grasp but is going on the entire time behind your beautiful closed eyes.

What am I really? Am I a horrible person? I have a lot of people tell me I am, mostly in jest, but there is always truth to humor and there is always reason for the truth.

I want to abandon everything right now. Run. Get away from anyone I may be a ble to hurt with an ill thought. Run away to a place where people can't see me, and all I'll be is another face with holes in it's head. I want to know myself. I want to know who I'm hiding from the world, and if they are really that bad that I need to hide them. The good I do feels like a chore, it feels like I do it out of self gain. Is this true to me? I hate myself.

Forgetting My Underpants.

Here I am trying to type this with one hand... It's a bitch and quite slow but I'll deal with it.

I'm really disappointed with where I am right now. I feel as if the last three months only enabled me to look into what my everyday life is and see that it's quite undesirable. I don't have any reason to stick around and really wonder why I don't just move on.

I've also hurt people. I don't like it, and I wish that it had never been an issue, but what can I really do now? It's all in the past and I've managed to screw things up in more ways than one. I'm not at all happy about the things I did, and I'm even less happy about the way I feel.

Me me me... That's really all it's about and that in itself bothers me. I've forgotten how to live.