... although I hate to admit it, I think I'm a little depressed.

I think it's because I realized every day is the same. It's hard to find happiness in reality because it's nonexistent. All you have to do is watch television; we're all only a few clicks away from hell itself. People get so shocked by everything; they are disgusted. And here I sit, silently, as if it were nothing.

It has become difficult to surprise me. It's a shame to know that there is merely nothing in this world that I live for. I used to have reasons for all the things I did, I wanted to reach out to people and help them understand, but the thought of it has become hopeless. Instead, I live for my imagination. I reference the nonexistent. My purpose is to do that which has not been done before: to explore the undiscovered. That is where my depression is cured.

It has been a very lonely life for me because everyone else seems so shallow and misunderstanding. I never had a chance to share my true personality with anyone because of it. It leaks out from time to time, especially in my writing. But I'm beginning to not care. I'll share myself now even if nobody understands it. When I look in the mirror I think I look more like myself than I ever did, now.

You have to discover yourself. That's what it takes. For me, no meds could ever purify my thoughts, no psychologist could ever talk me out of it; instead I had to recognize and accept everything as it is. Good luck to anyone that has problems like that.

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If you stare at a white pixel long enough, you notice the throbbing red, green, and blue elements that create it.

If you stare at a fuzzy blanket long enough with your eye so close it goes out of focus, just look at the sparkles; you can see it on the cellular level.