I can unabashfully admit that my writing is viewed as condescending. That my views and my constant whining are both mindless and quite frankly not logical. I accept this judgement because it is true. But I was not created to paint an accurate portrayal of human thought. I have experienced all of my own bullshit, and all of the ridiculous emotions I speak to and rant about are ones that I feel. I am the very tragic character that I am disgusted with. My paranoia and self doubt run my life like a train with endless amounts of track. I am the very person I despise. One moment I sit criticizing people and my surroundings while the next I am looking for ways to iitiate some aspect of social contact. I admit my own pitiful thoughts and shortcomings because they are true and to put it simply, they are no longer a secret. I spend more time entertaining distant daydreams then I do actually living my dreams. But I admit these shortcomings. They are part of me. So while my writing may come across aloof and rather sensationalized, take comfort in the fact that I am the main character of my own dissatisfaction. You may feel some of this, I am sure we all do, but I feel all of it. I accept who I am because I dont want to change what makes me unique. We both know that is pleasant bullshit. I am self destructive and self deprecating. I am trapt in my head because there is nobody to open the door to get out. Then again I may have forgotten to tell people I was in here. So please judge me and my writing. I only wish you could find some criticism that I have not already expanded upon.


STW