I really don’t know how to describe myself really, my tastes are superfluously eclectic.

I just want to find a purpose, my purpose, any reason to live, to really live (i hate the split infinitive).

Sometimes I pine for things not within reach, things to be had only in dreams, but then i come to realize that dreams are real, that all is within reach, and that for once, just once, maybe things aren’t bad afterall. But this epiphany is short lived, as with ones eyes does he see and therefore covet. Dreams are real only as possibilities, and possibilities are limited by the qualities of humanity. One man himself cannot become what he ought, but man can. I begin to wonder whether all of this is really real, tangible, as I recall that all of ones senses, emotions, thoughts, are but the transfers of electrons throughout the neurons of the brain. Is this any difference between the human brain and a computer processor? How, then, can we truly know anything? Are our thoughts our own?

This digression is horrible. In the end, I just wonder whether anything really matters, whether things will work themselves out. Sometimes I wish I could take the credit for everything that happens, but I cant. Oh how the winds of fate open the sail of man. I just want, not things, but a connection, either emotionally, intellectually, ideologically, whatever. I think that is what we all seek in the end, a connection, knowing that there is someone else in this world of more than 6 billion people that understands who we are, someone who needs us as we need them. To know and to be known, that is all I want. Like that one girl said in Saw II, the cure for death is immortality, ones legacy. What will mine be?