Ya know, I look at this computer and my first instinct is "EVIL!!!!!" I don't know why. Technology just seems so...wrong. I can't really explain it, because as I say that, I'm being a hypocrite. I have my WinAmp playing, using a special MP3 CD for it, there are lights on. I mean, I can't avoid it.

Actually, I could, but that tactic would involve living in a hole in the side of a mountain by myself. Not exactly the road I feel like taking right now.

So in general, I don't know what I want from my life. Really. And there are people who don't get it. But...well, whatever. I'm sixteen. Who the hell has their life planned out at sixteen? Surely not me, as if that isn't terribly apparent. But what would be the point? We can't keep a "fashion" trend for more than a week. Who says we can follow our plans? Then there's trying to get anyone to plan anything. If it can't be thrown together fifteen minutes prior to our leaving the house, it's probably either not worth it or has something to do with school.

Man, do NOT get me started with school.

But it's funny. Why give us any power? There are obvious reasons that the world is not run by teenagers. If it were, Fridays would be SexDay. Unless those teenagers weren't hardcore Fundamentalist Christians. Then Fridays would be Secondary Sabbath, I bet. But what am I complaining about?

....everything....

So in effect, the world is run by adults, most of whom have forgotten -- and those who have not forgotten are ashamed of -- their younger days. Then again, some people just look back and say "Hell, yeah, that was great...but now, no." And if these are supposed to be the best days of our life...it's only because that's what the adults tell us. Because that's what they grew up believing, and once they hit twenty-five decided, "Hey, this is gunna suck."

And people wonder why this world is caught up in so many suicides.

Me, personally, no. As much as I would love to run from life (because really, it WOULD fix some problems, however temporarily) by severing a major artery or something, I realize it's not worth it. So instead, I go to bed at 9:30. Because at this point, sleep is the closest thing to death I can get to.

Although the French believe...oh, who cares about the French? With their language and their people and their Louvre and their democracy...yeah, okay, I care about the French. For no reason. But I have no reason for anything. And if I do, it's probably subconscious.

Both my mother and Ms Henderson have made comments about how much I