Love? Doesn't exist. Just a lie, just an illusion. I was sucked into that lie, but no longer.

Bitter?

Yeah, very bitter. She pulled me out of my shell, for what? I never should have let her in, it just caused too much pain. The pain of waking up every morning to the knowledge that you're being forgotten, that you were so easy to get over. The feeling that nothing you did mattered or meant anything.

I've never hated a living thing as much as I hate that damn rose.

You know, I'm gonna be ok. No matter what happens, I'll be alright. There is still beauty in the world. So, don't worry about the Narzack. He's a tough cookie.

Now, I just need to get my tagboard and my usericon to work. And by that I mean, pester Tatsu until he can do it for me.

In other news, I've found that the more complex and semilogical my dreams are, the more I toss and turn. I had two really movie-like dreams last night. They both had logical progression of events and didn't exactly seem like a dream. It was actually pretty cool. I remember the first one, but I can't quite recall the second one right now. I'll be able to before long, though.

EDIT- Well, that's one thing working. Score.

Oh yeah, and I'm still ok. I'm gonna be ok. That makes me happy

So, I had an interesting thing happen to me today. After work, with its usual verbal abuse from fellow employees and the occasional customer, I was walking my usual route home. Naturally, I was lost in my imagination again, listening to a cd. I looked up and saw a man of obvious hispanic origin. He was staring at me intently. I paused for a moment, and coninuted to walk.

"Puerto Rico?"

I looked at him, and took off my headphones.

"Puerto Rico?"

I realized what was happening and shook my head. He then began to rattle off other Latin ethnicities, and to his great dismay, I shook my head to each of them. He was carrying a briefcase behind him, and I knew that he was just looking for someone who could speak spanish to help him out. And I felt so bad for him, because I still have a rudimentary knowledge of the language, but at the moment, I couldn't remember a single thing. Eventually, he gave up and moved on.

It was a strange thing to happen to me.

I was at work-like always-, trying to think of things that amuse me. One of my coworkers came in to check on something, I dunno, I wasn't really paying attention. Now, this kid is a big Cohen brothers fan. As you may or may not know, I am not. So, as per usual, I made some stupid remark about them. He responded in kind. And then threw a piece of wadded up paper at me.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

I smirked. He then started to strut, as if I didn't know what that line was from. So, he challenged me to name it.

Sigh

After rattling off some extremely WRONG answers, I finally blurted out, "Of course it's from A New Hope! How could I not know that?"

His answer was something along the lines of "Because you're an idiot."

"What are you talking about, I know everything about Star Wars."

I saw him arch an eyebrow. So, he challenged me to name the bounty hunters.

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

Please. So, with tremendous valor, I rattled off them off. Zuckuss, 4LOM, Dengar, Bossk, IG88, Bouush, Boba Fett, Jodo Kast, Jango Fett and so on.

He bowed to my majesty. Either that or left, I dunno.

This reminded me of another night where ANOTHER coworker felt that I wasn't truly a fan of James Cameron's Aliens. So, I named all twelve marines. He was impressed.

Which brings me to the real point of this entry.

WHY DOESN'T ANYBODY EVER THINK I KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!?!?!??!?!?!

You know, I think that this angry, hateful Narzack is starting to wear me out again. It's so tiring to have to conjure up the energy and the rage to be constantly pissed. There was a time not long ago, where I realized that hating everything all the time was really tearing me up inside. But of course, I started to be angry Narzack again. *sigh* I think that I don't have the energy to be that angry all the time. I think. . .it's time to try something new. And to this end, I've come up with a few ideas.

Think back, if you will, to your childhood. I'm sure that once or twice, after you got in trouble, one of your parents would say, "Do you want something to cry about? I'll give you something to cry about." I got in trouble alot when I was a kid, so I heard that quite a bit. This got me to thinking. When you're happy, or laughing, why doesn't anyone say anything like that?

For instance, "Why are you smiling? I'll give you something to smile about! You are without a doubt, the most talented artist that I have ever met." Naturally, that can be adapted for any situation. Maybe instead of a talented artist, you can tell them they are one of the funniest people you've ever met. And so on, I think you get the idea.

Perhaps, this is something that I can start doing. I'm pretty sure that it would shock some people. Maybe instead of being so angry all the time, I can start trying to make someone smile, once a day. Not with a sick joke or an amusing insult, but with a real, geniune compliment. Perhaps, I could cause a real moment of joy in someone's life. You know what? I'm going to give it a try. Who knows, maybe if you see me walking down the street with a smile instead of a scowl, you'll remember that life really is beautiful. It really is a gift.


I hope this all made sense to you.

You'd think that after the entry I just posted that I would have a great weekend. *sigh* Nope. For some reason, Sunday was a really bad day. Well, not "some reason." I know why it was bad. Sunday was a combination of things. First off, I was cold all day. Second off, sometimes I have moments of weakness. No matter how hard I try to push it away, sometimes I miss her. It happens. But that's not even the worst part. While at work, my coworkers began talking about a girl who used to work at Blockbuster. Apparently, her Dad died recently.

They kept remarking that he'd been really sick for a long time, and he was so young. I felt my stomach seize up. He died of cancer; it wrapped around his spine. They just kept talking about, and every word hurt more. I don't know why I can't get over anything. It's like I just won't let go, I'm too stubborn to accept anything. There's no reason that I should get this upset about Dad, after three years. There must be something wrong with me.

Yesterday wasn't that much better. I had a panic attack. I hate them. I hate them so much. It was sort of at work. If you know me well enough, there are tell tale signs when I'm plummetting. And for some reason, the knowledge that I'm going to panic, just triggers an even more intense attack. I don't know why, but certain mental triggers just. . .make it worse. I fought it for a few hours at work, but I nearly lost it on the way home. All night, it was a huge force of will to hold it. After I passed out for a while, I was ok. But I had the terrifying knowledge that I was close to that chasm. I hate it. Few things make me feel as alone as that.

But, today is a new day. Each day that I can wake up is a chance for a new smile. Just keep your head up, Narzack.