I just wanted to write, for the sake of writing. To reflect, for retrospection. It doesn't matter if anyone reads this, but if anyone does, that would be cool. It just helps me relax, to write something down. Since typing is faster than writing, I type. Writing also hurts your hand and it costs pen and paper. Typing is free so long as you have a computer and electricity. It costs, however, if you want to put it somewhere strangers will see it. That is, unless you go around writing sticky notes and placing them in random places. Sadly, what sounds like an innocent and fun idea is illegal and carries a hefty punishment. I understand people who pay for billboards and advertisment don't like what they call "vandalism" on their advertisements, but what about the vandalism on our minds? I, for one, do not appreciate being bombarded with crappy messages to buy things and eat shitty food. I've never been the type to just flow with the current though, I've always liked doing my own thing. As a kid, I always had to stand out. I always had to be different. As you get older though you realize that everyone stands out, everyone's different. So you lose part of your identity. What once made you stand out, now makes you like everybody else. There are those who are blissful in ignorance. They happily conform to society and never question the status quo. They, I would say, are the most happy. They go to their job, they follow along, they do as they're told, they don't ask questions, they don't rebel, they don't act out, they don't do anything. They are like puppets on a string. But they dance, however. They dance when you tell them to. Put on the cap of authority and wear it with an air looks authentic. They will do as you say, and they won't ask questions. These types are known in psychology circles as somnambules. (sic). To most, the term door mat should ring a bell. I can not finish my thought, however, partly because some of it is incorrect but also because I can not quite grasp the idea I'm trying to express. It's as if my thoughts elude me like a man standing in a river trying to catch a fish with his bare hands. It's as if I can see it, I'm staring right at it, but yet I can't find the right words to express. I hope to come back to this, to express myself once again. I find this very enjoyable.