It Really Sucks Missing Some People.

Why can't I remember? Names, faces, people, events. They're gone. There's a feeling left. Like a hole where an uprooted tree stood. Pieces of pictures are all that's left. No emotion attached to them. Did they really happen? Were they all just dreams? Is this all just a nightmare I can't wake from?

Honestly, I'm kind of hoping I have a brain tumor so I'll know this weird shit isn't me just me being insane.

Most apt picture I've seen so far.

You all know this. 

I think my life has a shortage of beautiful women with tattoos.

As I drove into work mostly still asleep, I had a sudden, horrifying sensation I left my light saber at home. The awake half of my brain took a minute to process how ridiculous the notion was I: Have a real light saber; would need said light saber for work. Sleeping only two-three hours a night is not a good way to live.

Spy gun. Check. Holster. Check. All I need now is a nice suit.

Someone once told me things would be better now. Someone lied.

Consider It A Strong Warning

When the ending to one of the "great novels of the 20th century" sucks.

Is it guilt? What is it?

I have this weird, lingering... feeling...? Since we broke up about a year ago, we remained in contact, I have seen my ex gain at least thirty pounds. She was always insecure, depressed, anxious, etc. on top of being just downright lazy when it came to her physical well-being, and there was nothing I could say or do to get her to change that. She takes half a dozen medications to help her, and it seems to me they don't work. She refused to even eat better (A salad with ten ounces of ranch dressing is not healthy) when I gave up on offering to do walk-jog-run or something as simple as Wii-Fit. I didn't care she was overweight already or not as active as she should have been, I just wanted her to actually think for once instead of sitting on facebook all day eating junk food and looking (then, subsequently, complaining to me) at how all these "friends" kept getting married, engaged, blah, blah, blah. Eventually, the daily irony of being all these things on top of her going to nursing school was too much for me to bear. Few things make me angrier than people in health care, or trying to get into it, who can hardly make it up a flight of steps, much less have some semblance of mental/emotional stability. I don't care how smart a person is in a classroom (she is very book-smart, that much is true). If they think they are material for being in a position to possibly need to save people and have zero stability other than this illogical, masochistic idea that being in health care will mystically make themselves better (physically, mentally, emotionally), they're wrong. Thinking a job they will have huge responsibilities will magically make them take care of themselves, too, simply makes no sense at all when they have fits of depression or anxiety that keep them in bed all day. It makes me sad, too. It makes me sad because a part of me really, REALLY wanted to help her. I wanted to help her succeed, but she'd have nothing of it. A part of me also feels responsible for how she reacted to the breakup. Honestly, that's illogical, as well. Maybe even more so than her mindset. There was little worthwhile about that relationship, honestly. The relationship yielded little more than what a good friendship could have (sex has never been a strong selling point to me). Maybe if we'd been friends longer before dating, we could have circumvented the inevitable. She isn't a bad person, but she is too self-destructive for anyone less than psychiatrists to handle. Still... All-in-all, for whatever, ridiculous reason, I still feel bad... and I don't know why...