I read what you write

Around 2 am I grow bored with the silly game I waste all my time on.
The world is silent except for the hum of the computer and everyone is asleep but me.
I remember that the world is empty and open Robot Melon.
If I read everything, I will be able to write something amazing.

Something is wrong tonight, when I read I feel sick and knotted up inside.
No matter how much I read, I cannot be all of you.
I need to stop pretending.
I need to write like me.

Juliet

I knew a girl once who was beautiful. She talked too loud, stumbled when she walked, had few friends, but loved the whole world anyway. Her love was endless in this respect, shared amongst everyone and everything while never being diminished.

Then, she let someone in, which she never did, and they broke her. The cruel, damnable world we live in broke this beautiful angel made of glass, replacing her love with a fountain of tears and her madness with a dim acquiescence to the rules laid out before her. Before the change she saw the extraordinary that lay beyond the veil, where now she sees only her broken reflection in a mirror.

Where is the justice? What happened to my Juliet?

I don't know, I left her behind in favor of freeing myself of the fetters our past had become to me. If I could take anything back, I wish I hadn't broken those ties, but just played cards that day. I'm sorry Juliet, and I'll come back for you some day.

I promise, on the only thing I hold sacred. My memories of Juliet.

We'll live in your Polish castle on the sea, and we'll dance in the rain once more before we die, I swear it.

Misanthropy Strikes Again

I am surrounded by fools and peasants. The immense ignorance of those who attend this University continues to astound me. The particular group that has aroused my ire this particular time are LARPers, a group that infests the campus with their foolish pride in a hobby which is shunned by most of the role-playing community.

Why, dear God why? These people fight with foam swords and take pride in being a blood-elf or other such bastardization of Tolkein's creation and then think to have any self-respect? The shame should crush their pathetic little minds. Their very existence works to fuel my apathy towards succeeding in a world where people like this can breathe without being mercilessly pounded by the relentless waves of guilt that should accompany their actions.

Yes, I'm judgmental, but their very presence causes me to shudder in shame that they live on the same planet I do.