Nothing Significant

Haven't anything important to say nowadays. Nothing to say, for that matter.

I've figured that no matter how much I sleep, I still feel tired. Two hours, ten. Doesn't matter. Maybe it's just the optimism concept. Or not. Or my personality is just boring. Which I thoroughly believe it is. I don't have that honed skill for irony or humor. I bore myself sometimes. Most of the time. But, that's besides the point.

I don't feel very inclined towards connecting with people. Or maybe it's the other way around. Then again, the silence does become deafening when you've listened to it too often.

Useless and uncertain, two words to describe situations. More and more, I'm finding the need to be something, someone. So that, if someone arbitrarily decides to murder me, he cannot claim: inherently false accusations, you can't take the life of a girl who's never lived! Of course, a single existence can never mean so much to the world as it does to, say, the people themselves. The world.. progresses? No, that's not the right word. Regresses.. It just moves on. One person won't ever mean so much to the world, collectively, to keep time at a stand still. And, of course, this couldn't happen. Otherwise, reality itself would be torn to shambles.

Anyhow, I've thought about it some today. The world wouldn't notice if I, somehow, ceased to exist. And I guess it wouldn't matter. Simple enough, though, it just kills me to live without having this living mean anything. I'm just going through the motions. And for that reason, I am so very selfish.

As a reason for that reason, I need people in my life. Not just people to depend on, but people to depend on me. I guess that in itself is selfish. Yet, I can't keep fearing people. I don't want to keep fearing people. And, so, all the more reason to keep training Bear.. and looking for opportunities to invest my time in. Because, I think, sleep is a small compromise for making my time mean something.

Well, I feel very much at the edge of my patience. No particular reason other than myself. Is it right that a Christian has chanced upon more temples, housing idols and statues and the like, than doors of the church? I am going to the temple. So I can tell of all my troubles to the monks' dog and cat. Well, not really.