I know this guy who is always talking about beating the system. Today it's society, tommorow it's the judicial system, but the core idea to his existence is that all social constructs exist within easily understood boundaries. The ordinary, mediocre people, unlike him, in all ways live and act within these rules. Therefore, he concludes, he can, without difficulty, simply think outside of the box and trump all others. I just realized something way important, though; he thinks society and such things are made in a way that anyone who understands their intent to, as he believes, keep the populace in check, can rise above them. Get metric tons of money minus work, whatever. I realized, though, that society, while not necessarily a giant mind control experiment thought up by the Illuminati and the Freemasons working in concert with the Pentecostal Church, is a self-regulating organism. Those people in society who do try to beat the system are the people that are the most trapped by the system. All the easy outs that seem to be visible are the true constraints of economy and society. The guy I was talking about won't be able to beat the system because he spends his time thinking about beating the system.

I thought I had more to say. More's the pity.

Meh.

I'm at a certain point where I have only one viable option: sleep. I've read all of the books in my house that I actually want to read. I've decided to never again play another video game. I don't feel like sitting at the computer for another four hours. I rather feel like going out and killing someone. Not really violent, but sort of disgusted. If there was something for me to scoff at, I would, but I just don't have the energy. So I'll slumber.

. . .

But it doesn't feel right. I feel like there's something incredibly important that I could do right now. Malaise. I need some sleep.

Wow. I just saw, for the first time, my shadow.

I used to think that my shadow, my inner side, was the reflection of the evil in me. My hate, anger, greed. But, surprise, I was wrong. It wasn't any of that.

All the hurt, all the pain, the big wounded spot I have, that's my shadow. I deny all of my pain. To be strong, you have to shrug off pain, right? But now, I think it's dawned on me. The pain doesn't really go away. It collects in all the crevices, sharpens the rough edges. I never wanted to say this, but I am damaged. It's what's causing my insanity.

Hmm . . .

I don't think I'll write anything for a while.

I've had a lot of dreams about trains. Maybe it's all the times I've nodded off on a train. Whenever I get on a train while dreaming, I seem to be late. I lose track of time, I get on the wrong train. It's hard to get on the right train when you don't know where you're going. I never do know, and apparently I'm never going anywhere, although I do become quite concerned at my tardiness. Then it gets late, the sky gets dark, and I know I'll have hell to pay when I get home. Once, this train was on rollercoaster tracks. In a prairie area. It seemed beautiful and sad at the time.

I wonder if all my problems stem from my not belonging. I have never felt in comfortable in any place I've been, role I've played. I was never quite able to admit that I didn't belong because I never wanted to admit that I might yearn to find an appropriate place. Maybe that's why people go on journeys. They know that they don't belong where they are and that the longer they stay, the less they will be able to distinguish the feeling. When I was younger, I didn't want to wish to belong because I didn't want a life set in one place, one role. But I was/am always in no place, no role. What I've got to ask is: which choice is better?

The future contains potential. Potential is like dark matter: it is said to be present everywhere, yet is nigh-impossible to observe and even harder to interact with. I think, maybe . . . potential is a great limiting force. Perceiving the world as a hodgepodge of the potential things that you can do or become severely limits me. I have no idea how to use my potential, so my first desire is to conserve potential, to keep all options open. This leads to a path where I do very little, as any large action destroys the potential to later do other things. I'm hamstrung. Strange ideas have overtaken my mind concerning what to do with the future. It's not the plan I had in mind, but I really didn't have a plan.

I'm always on the verge of annoyance. On edge, not, but I have a hot flowing spring of bitterness somewhere near the front of my thoughts that can be tripped at a moment's notice.

I've always tried to be, from a certain point in my life, in control of my anger. I have a lot of anger, and all of it is pretty much bolted away, a set of demons at the gate of my personality that will some day quite politely let themselves out and lay waste to my life. Anger you can bottle. Anger you can vent. Not annoyance, though. Annoyance is so painful because it can't be ignored. If you have enough bile in your system, it will start to eat away eat the edges of your balance. My balance.

No.

Alright, how about this. I used to have a scratchpad because my memory is so poor. This scratchpad helped me keep track of my thoughts and not forget my major ideas. It helped for a while, but then I lost it. It was destroyed, beyond any trace. Now I can't remember anything from the time at which I had that scratchpad. All of those plans, lost. And I'm pretty glad of that. But I'm not sure why . . .

I have a feeling of unease, but I'm not sure why. Anticipation of the future. Over the past amount of time, I've learned to do two very redundant things: hate the present and fear the near future. I'm not sure if I ever want to learn the motivations of my unconscious. I think I'm scared now and want to stop writing.