It strikes me as odd
That people pursue
What we become:
Unhappy, lonely, and desperate.

Because we are unhappy,
We reach out, but there is no one
To share our sorrows.
And we become lonely, desperate,
And reach out in every which way
We know how.

Hundreds of thousands
Of beating, desperate hearts
Splattered across the internet.

I find it strange
To want ( Read more... )

In my mind, I'm sitting on the old leather sofa, whose seams have long begun to give. I'm looking up at two concerned, loving faces, the faces of people who want so very badly to know if everything is all right, if their beloved son needs their help. Their question is one simple word.

"Why?"

And so begins the story.

"You see, a long time ago, I wanted ( Read more... )

To you and I, and I alone ( Read more... )

There's this a story, but there's a problem with it; it's just an ending. An ugly, unforgiving, whimper of an ending, at that. Who cares what it started with, it ends in death. Glorious moments right before death, regretful tears right before death--death is death is death. It's the best story you'll ever think of, and the longest one you'll ever ( Read more... )

We can all tell ourselves that life goes on; in our insignificance we invest emotional safety, draw consolation around our disappointments like thick white outlines. The passage of time is our safety net, and the tightrope act is that much easier because of it. "There's always tomorrow," we say, "if at first you don't succeed," we chant, expecting ( Read more... )

He sits studiously before a the two screens demanding his attention, wrapping his head around them about about as well as he's been doing so with the knowledge laying within. Lifestyle, he tells himself, is not a definition of who you are. You can do more than your day job, be more than a paygrade. He doesn't need actual laughter to mock the ( Read more... )

You could tell just by looking at him, that he was one of those people who harbor a hundred worlds within themselves, and the world he lived and breathed was only one of many. There was no "if," only "when" and "where;" possibility implied transliteration, defined reality. If he could dream it, he could see it come true, could peek into the world ( Read more... )

(An intentionally paraphrased and maliciously edited conversation from IGN editors:)

:"The iPhone has a massive user base and it can totally pull of any game you'll find on the DS and PSP!"
:"And the new graphics are amazing!"
<3DS/PSP>:"Yes, but the 3DS will have, you know, 3D"
:"Yeah, but you can turn off the 3D. It was nice but it wasn't a big ( Read more... )

Coming into your own can be a lot less like the books; it can be turning to find the sun shining down after a dark and stormy afternoon, or remind you of that old friend you ran into that you never remembered but could never forget, but it's really better when it's like falling off a ten story building. It starts out innocent enough, an overly ( Read more... )

You know what's weird? I don't define my friendships by what I'm willing to do for them, but what I'm willing to ask of them.