I was going to mention that I hadn't posted here for a while (it's been a couple of weeks) but that would be a waste. Better to get started…When does life finally give up and let you live? I'm still waiting. I'm plagued by the same terrors that had me starring at the ceiling for hours on end, unable or unwilling to sleep, five years ago. The only difference being that I can't crash every few weeks because I have responsibilities that must or should be attended to. I've also managed to isolate myself within a group of people who live their own lives and avoid glancing at the periphery, perhaps unaware but most likely apathetic about those running alongside them. I've best keep running; stopping to rest has become a long forgotten scheme. I may be a psychology student but each semester I complete makes me painfully aware that I'll never go back to therapy. I'll wait until they can run a system reset; I was happy as a child. After stupidly inquiring for solutions, I've gotten supposed suggestions, all suspiciously sounding like statements. I'll fall in love. I'll shed the mantle of childhood. I'll lose my virginity. I'll gain independence. Check, check, check, check. All those things never managed to change the inherent problem in my unyielding nihilism. Ultimately I have to care about everything. Then, and only then, nothing comes easy.Over the past few weeks I've carefully noted some problems in my personality. The first and most noticeable being that I'm not funny and I have the misconception that I am. This leads to a large array of problems when coupled with the second and almost equally noticeable flaw: I respond with sarcasm approximately 60% of the time. This wouldn't be such a large problem if I kept to the tried and true mainstays of sarcastic humor such as "duh!" and "Ya suuuuuure. That's a good idea" But rather, I tend to indulge in subtle quips and strategize with tonality. All of which results not only unfunny but ultimately irritating. The last flaw (that we shall discuss here, feel free to mention others) is my misuse of one of the few positive traits I possess. My great-grandpa called it "Tener los ojos bien pelados e inquietos." I won't bother to translate, ask your housekeeper. I get to know people quickly and quietly, without piercing questions and late night sessions with binoculars. You can argue all you want that I possess no such ability but, just ask your mom. (That's me being not funny again) The problem with being able to do this is that I'm constantly pushing the wrong buttons and in my attempt to placate people I end up pressing them all over again. This had led to my continued goal of remaining silent for as long as possible, on as many subjects as possible, with everybody but my closest friends (of which I have none). Needless to say, this has been almost entirely unsuccessful, case in point, this paragraph.There are so many more things I've written these past few weeks, but I'll save them for tomorrow or the next day.Wednesday Night Confession: I hate your guts. You with the black hair. Stupid fuck.Ja.True Wednesday Night Confession: The band only serves to depress me. Somebody send me an intravenous form of apathy.