Well, here I am bored and sitting here in front of the blogger box typing down the first thing that comes to my mind not caring if it offends or hurts because, hey, this is my outlet for bottled emotions.

I read and finished the story I found early this morning and e-mailed the writer saying how much I admired what he did and how I wish that I could be like him. Hey, people that take big risks like he did are what make this world interesting. It's like what his mother said. Without risk, life is boring. Believe me, I should know. For the past two years, my life has been nothing but boring. The only thing that made it interesting was the fact that I masked everything over with a big lie about how I'm doing this, that, and the other. What scares me is the fact that I'm getting good at that.

Surprisingly, the guy wrote me back. He said he was working on a second book that could be right up my ally. I can only wonder why he asked about my age, but after reading his true-life adventure, I know it would be rude of me to question it. He seems like a good person. He is a good person.

Russ has been on my mind all day today. Last night in and out of reading the story I found, Russ said somethings that caught me off gaurd. I didn't want to tell him this, but what he told me I heard before. From Andrew. From James. And we all know how those relationships went. You would think I would have learned my lesson now about internet love. I mean, I've known this entire time that IMs are not the same as actually talking to the person and meeting them and seeing how they react. One can only learn so much from their words. It is their actions that accompany the words that makes them have some meaning, some depth, some humanity. I knew all this, but yet all day today, I kept thinking about Russ. I wanted this to work out. Hopefully it will. That whole "Third Time's the charm" thing. Yet, I still had this fear boiling up inside of me. This feeling that, like the others, I'll end up screwing this up. My track record isn't all that favorable in this matter. Granted that I've never technically had a real relationship, but I can't help fear that I'll end up scaring this one away like I have before with all my quirks. Not that many people can handle me, and I don't really think anyone knows what to do with me! Well, except for Dan, that is. The only thing that is even reomotely killing this fear is the fact that Russ isn't like James or Andrew. You can say that he is from my "circle of people," for lack of a better term. I'm not going to go into much about it, mostly because I can't. All I can tell you is that he knows what's up and can be alot better than James ever could be. At least, that's what he says. I'm not doubting his word in any form. Hell, I'm the kind of person that will believe you if you tell me a fish story so outragous that everyone is laughing at you. Gullable? Maybe. Too trusting? Most definately. My greatest flaw and strength. I really want this to work. I want a boy that will love me for me and can put up with me and someone I can love back because he loves me for me. I don't care about anything else.

It's strange. I know no one is reading this. I know that if someone is and they want to contact me, they can't. So why am I even writing? A question that I keep asking myself every time I log in. What do I hope to gain from all this venting and complaining and logging in seemingly useless and boring entries? Just what is it I want from this place I have claimed as my own in cyberspace? Attention? A better understanding of myself? Some kind of meaning to a life I know nothing about? The answer to one of the most asked question I get as to what it is that I am thinking? What am I doing this for? What purpose do I have to continue?

I know deep down somewhere the answer is just screaming its head off. Why can't I hear it?

You know, for someone that acts so stupid and knows so much trivial knowledge, I can get really philisophical even if I can't spell the word. The thing is, that deep thinking of mine is a major social flaw. I always seem to do it at the most inapproprite times no matter how much I don't want to get into it. You know, kind of like that person on the bus that won't shut up because they are obessed about something that you really don't give a damn about. The funny and ironic thing is that I don't have any life experiance to even say what I'm saying right now. I don't deserve the right to. I mean, what do I know? Here I am, all of twenty years old, sitting at home where I've lived most of my life wondering what my next move is while still gambling on a dream that has time and time again proved to be so far out of my reach that I would need one of those extend-a-grip claws to get within an inch of it! Do I really have any kind of merit to say the things I say here? Actually, I do. The only merit I can think of is the fact that this is my life. Yes, it's pathetic and could be better. Okay, it could be worlds better, but I still have a right to express my own opinion. Even the most pig-headed of Republicans has the right to say what they thing should and shouldn't be. It's called free speach. The freedom to say whatever I want. But still, I don't think my opinions matter that much in the long run. After all, I'm no one important to anyone.

I think I've done enough mindless ranting.