okay i swear i wrote that post on 8/2 before i read Ashleys xanga. The other day ash was asking me if i read her xange. I dont so i said no and didnt think anything else of it. Then Heather asks if i read her blog, strang , but i dont really notice. Then DAVID tells me I SHOULD read it. I do and the one for 8/1 is mostly about me (or is that my big head talking?). either way, it had my name a bunch of times and was primarily about ashley. Thus would be about me and ashley. Sorta. She is dealing with self-realization, discovey and self-evident truths about herself. An dthe slight onset of miniscule amounts of maturity. Abliet, no one who states "I am mature" is actually mature. And her claim off new maturity makes me wary. As always. She is trying, which is always a plus. And, I, myself, am guilty of entierly self-centered posts. So, either way, I am amazed at how niave she was to how I felt before she read my blog. This blog (I only have two). Well I guess thats why it's her. To lure my brian into a place where it thinks no one can hear it so I can get my real, true, heartfelt feelings out. And when i type, most of the time i think i have no audience. That is why i live off the posts i get. What you are feeding back to me is opinions on who I really think i am. Yes this is a plea for more feedback, comment or email or anything. But it's also how i feel so suck a duck. Sometimes i wish nobady else was real (is that deep enough for you?). Sometimes. My mood just suddenly turned melonchaly, so whatever. Yeah, i do wish that sometimes. I wouldnt have to deal with anything because i would know that it didnt matter. That i could wake up at any moment and not remember. I really feel likei am in a dream sometimes. Mostly when i think about my future. I think that is why The Matrix was such a success. More people must feel the same as i do. Like the world isnt real, that it doesnt even feel real. SOmetimes not even true love feels real. Just sad, and flat and like a cheap facade over the real thing. Or fake gold coat over real silver. The fake gold is tacky and bad looking but there is no way to get to the true thing anymore. And its frustratng, because you know you cant deal with the fake for much longer, but you have to if you ever want to feel the real thing. I get anxiety attacks. after that, everything is pretty fake. Have you ever had a anxiety attack? The tunnel vision is what gets me. If you've never had it, its black all at the edges of your eyes, it all fades into the middle, you feel a little dizzy, then the black fades away, leaving you doubting whether it ever happened at all. But whenever this happens to me, i doubt my own existance. I look in a mirror, and if i look too closley at any feature, i cant recognize myself. scary. I can breath fine, but i feel like even if i stopped right then, i wouldn't mind. Like everything is so fake at this point that the air isn't even real, just something to make me think i am awake. I know this is a Zen thing, but once i actually dreamed i was a butterfly. It was so real, i gasped when i woke up. What if im actually a butterfly, dreaming that she is a girl. Will i wake up and fly away. Is my whole life the fancy of a insect? What if, i am my own dream? I will wake up and nothing that is important to this me, exists when i wake up. I could be anybody, and not even be aware of it. When they wake up, they remember me, an dwhen i sleep i get snatches of them. But becasue i am the dream, i dont remember all of it, just the best parts. That means the real me might have already had sex with Mark McGrath, David boreanza, a female whose face i never saw(yum, that was fun), an Jerome (and Jerome, if you read this, i swear it's just a dream, i had nothing to do with it outside the dream thing. NOT MY FAULT!). or maybe dreams can have their own dreams, whilst waiting to be dreamt. My whole life could be a dream. This is a possibility to be considered. Or maybe i just have a sociopathic problem and need a new hobby.