I feel compelled to write. I must say something. Anything. What can I write. There must be something. I shall type endlessly, without hope, without interruption. Where will this lead? I hope for salvation, for a better life, a life free of bugs, free of vb, free of persecution and sloth.

Let me alone a minute. Let me think in solitude. A few minutes, that's all I ask. I enjoy my solitude. I can be completely free, free to express myself, free to be myself. Even if there is no one to express myself to; but maybe that's the most important thing. I've stopped trying to impress people. It's never worked.

What am I doing, to snap at her so? A simple question asks she, but my tongue is too sharp for her. The zone, the zone, for the first time in a long time. An abstraction from the world, I don't want to pay attention, I just want to press these little switches and convert the froth on the top of my mind to bits and words, and type on, and share. Callous then, but afraid now, what damage can such a small thing cause?

She is like a tender flower to be handled with the utmost care, gently and carefully. But I am to coarse, too brutal. Oh, what hope have I for love, if I keep on like this, a lout, thrashing through the forest of life, crushing small things underfoot as some clumsy over sized giant. I am not aware of what I do, I must be more careful, before I make a grievous error and cast all that is good and wonderful from my life. I can't allow myself to make those kinds of mistakes again, I should have learned from them by now. I must not become so absorbed in myself.

Peace. Quiet. That is all I seek now. Away from work, away from words. Let me read with my eyes closed, but with my mind open. Let me type with my eyes closed, and we shall see what comes out. Channeling something, a random stream, like taking random noise and turning it into something beautiful, that's what I want to do. I've had enough of structure and order, I want to sit back and enjoy work of beauty that is nature's, and not worry about what I haven't learned yet. I am young, there will be much time ahead of me to accomplish things and learn more. So I shall sit, and observe, and love if I can. Stop and smell the roses for an hour or two, and see what comes of it.

Ah, it feels so good, this release, this wonderful expression of words. I am beaten, run down and stressed out, and nothing has happened yet!

.... That's it. That's all.