April 16th 2004

Well, I did it again. I updated PHQ. Yes, I guess I'm addicted to it, a workaholic, I'm addicted to positive criticism, I'm addicted to attention. I'm addicted to my minority complex. Sounds like fun? It isn't. Everything you do has to be absolutely perfect. So, maybe perfectionists are just children with minority complexes. I'm a child. Everyone's just a child. We never grow up. We never leave our dreams behind. We just realize that most of our dreams we had aren't possible in this world. We realize that existence must be a sadistic joke. We realize that life is not meant to last forever. We realize that people can die actually. We realize that our hands, our youthful skins and bones and bodies will be buried one time, buried or burnt. And forgotten. We realize that everything we do and even though we're trying so hard to leave a mark on this planet - in the end we'll be forgotten, we'll be just a senseless blood stain in someone's endless book.

The more we realize the truth the more we wish it was a lie.