The beginnings of a story I wrote once.

After years of sitting in this limbo with an impatient expectance, I've decided to step out of my morbid world which is enclosed inside this head of mine and into what is often called Life. Years of waiting - for what, I've never known - are coming to a close. No more glancing up from a book someone told me to read that makes very little sense and means near to nothing of importance to me and looking around my surroundings in pure astonishment that I am still here, sitting in my bedroom, alone. Or wanting so badly to go out and just do something, even out to watch a generic movie that I won't even enjoy and has no relevence to my life's past, present, and hopefully future, or to a party where people are so caught up in pretending to be something they aren't they never find out what they really are, and despite that still wanting to join them but not even being capable of it. Friends? What friends? I don't think I've ever really had any, not really, not in the flesh. Perhaps only on my computer screen where so much of my life has taken place, in the endless abyss of the Internet, where faces are rarely seen except perhaps a touched up scanned picture, never knowing if it's truely the person you're talking to or a picture cut out of a magazine. And now it's coming to an end, where I shall step out into Life and attempt to survive it once again.

Many times I have decided I would not live, not truly live as I've so long desired to. Why I desire the things that are so very difficult for me is a mystery, perhaps that is what desire is in the first place - wanting things that are not so easy to achieve. I decided I would simply pass the time away as idly as possible until I died or got up enough courage to jump off a bridge, for that is the way I'd decided to kill myself. Why jumping off a bridge, well, it seemed to be a fun way to die, if there can be such a thing. And it isn't hurting myself deliberately like slitting wrists or blowing my brains all over the walls. I've always wanted to sky dive, anyhow, and that would be close enough, I think. I suppose now I'll never know, now that I have decided to live, or to attempt to. And although I have had many attempts in the past I have never looked at things quite the way I am now. Slower, more patient, rather than wanting to rush into the middle of life and not knowing what shoes to wear - literally. Now I will first go to a shoe store, try on some shoes, see if they fit and if they don't try another pair, and if that pair doesn't fit I can try another, and once I find the perfect pair, then I can walk cautiously into life rather than jumping. It sounds like a good idea to me, anyway.

How this all began, I am unsure. How I came to despise the world I can guess, but that's another story. Although I have not given up my belief that life is meaningless and giving it meaning is only lying to yourself, I very much want to think up a damn good lie.

My realizing the silliness of my decision to not live life simply because it is meaningless came to me one day while I was wasting my precious time away online, engrossed in a world where people, although not the kind of people we often associate with that word for I have never met the majority of them, knew me and I was of importance there. Placing importance in a game is somewhat of a histeria, I suppose, but you could always simply consider life not much more different than a game, only with rules not drawn out which are to be learned as you embark on your journey. Much of my free time (and not so free time, as I procrastinated as much as humanly possible to waste my time on there) has been spent on this game, years at least, off and on, but this was most likely my longest period of time without a break of more than a day or two that I had been playing. The immortals (that is what we call those who run the game) had begun to brandish my last nerve, and that's not even including the constant headaches caused by the players simply because I was such an "important" player I often had to look after things. And so as I was sitting here in front of my computer, I thought a moment of all the ambitious dreams I had once had and still keep snugly tucked away in the back of my mind, and blissly wished I could go back in time and never give them up.

Now, this is rather a silly thing because it's not as if I am getting gray hair and about to acquire a walking cane, I'm still young enough to go back to school and not look so out of place - and education is important to me. Being so young even considering that all my dreams are forever gone is impossible, and that I realized. I sat there staring at the screen before me and looking about my bedroom that so much of my waking hours are spent, and I thought how pathetic it is. If life is meaningless, well fine, but obviously my outburst of sorrow and depression aren't helping things, especially when I admittedly hate that I have done nothing with my life, then so be it. It can be as meaningless as it wishes, but I suppose as I've been told in the past, there is a need to create your own meaning (or as I said above, come up with a damn good lie). So why not, I thought, I'm in need of a change.

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