Here I am, and I don't know why. I suppose if I’m going to talk to myself, I may as well do it somewhere where at least there is a chance that someone might listen to me. I’m here talking to myself because there’s no one else to talk too.

It’s been a long long time since I’ve been on this site. I was occupied with other things. I had “a life.” When I was a “Deviant” in the past it was because I felt cut off from everything else and I felt like this connected me to something that somehow might matter.

I suppose that is where I am again. Except before I still felt like I was reaching for something, reaching toward something that might matter. Working towards finding some meaning or truth in myself, in my life or in other people; something to latch onto and to have faith in.

I no longer have faith in anything. I see this world as a dark, hopeless place that I don’t fit into and am afraid of. I feel so much older, tired, worn out. For the longest time I felt like the causes and things that I believed in mattered or would lead to something, but now all the trails have gone cold and dead and left me wandering without a milepost out here in who knows where.

I don’t know where to start with this. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already begun then. I suppose I’m writing this because tired of seeing all the desparate people starved for attention, begging for it by getting naked in front of a camera. Browsing the so-called “Artistic Nudes” just makes me fucking depressed. Also kind of makes me wish I had tits so I could take my cloths off and actually have a prayer that someone would look past my naked body and see me. Best of luck to them all.

My last entry on this site is almost two years stale, but still as fresh as when I wrote it. Now I am two years older and many experiences more naieve. Several thousand dollars towards college and the cusp of a degree haven’t taught me who I am – just cleared up a few things that I now know I’m not. I’m not an actor and I’m not a business man. I’m not popular, and as much as I need people, they sure as fuck don’t need me.

I looked over some of my old writing and all I can think is how much I wish I still had that much passion – for anything. I used to get into these moods and my emotions would poor out of me into puddles of poorly worded and extraordinarily cliché teenage angst ridden garbage. I used to be depressed, or angry or happy about so many things. Now I just don’t care. As much as I hated it then, I’d go back if I could. Instead, I’ll drink another beer, smoke another cigarette and try to drug myself into forgetting how sad, lonely and pathetic I still am. Once I drink enough, I can crack through all the layers of armor and touch some of those emotions that used to be there so close to the surface.

For those of you who knew me back then and still use this site, I doubt it would surprise you, but I’m an alcoholic. It’s hard to imagine how I could have turned out as anything else. I’m not the kind of alcoholic who drinks 40s of Old E that he steals from a bum down the street. I’m the educated, alcoholic who drinks rum from Barbados, 100% Agave tequila and lots of good scotch whiskey. I guess that comes from having several steady income streams and no dependants – like say, a girlfriend.

Over the last two years, my life has basically been this: I’ve studied real hard and learned about how I will eventually grow up to be an insignificant peon; I’ve made a whole lot of friends by learning to pretend very convincingly that I am someone that I’m not, lost those friends by being the arrogant twat I’ve always been, then burned the bridges of those friendships and pissed on the ashes; I’ve worked too hard at too many jobs for too little money, but far more than any man really needs: god bless America, right?

Note that I capitalize America, but not god. Fuck god. Fuck America too for that matter. I guess I just haven’t given up on America entirely, yet. God and I haven’t been on good terms for a long time, but I’m even more pissed off since the first woman I ever really loved dumped me for his son. It’s always the sons of rich guys that get the hot chicks. Funny that I’m pissed off at an invisible guy who never existed. For an imaginary bastard he’s sure managed to fuck up the lives of quite a few people quite a bit. It’d be nice if he’d just leave my life the fuck alone.

Anyway, I never really had anything much to say besides “I’m still alive an just as miserable as ever.” So Now I’ve said it. Go back to whatever it is you were doing. Sorry for wasting your time.