In my solitude I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've been feeling more like an outcast; a monster spending his days looking down at a quiet village going about its days knowing of my existence, but ignoring it. I'm ok with that though or am I, now I have an idea of what Frankenstein's monster felt like

 Ah, just one more week, one more week and I can let the beast out of its cage. It's been locked away for a while, unable to stretch its legs. Soon it will be free to run wild, to smell the fresh air and bask in the light of the moon. Now all he needs is someone to join him.

 - sigh - This old dog is getting really tired of chasing the scent of these rotten bones and sometimes it feels like I'm just chasing my own tail, which just makes me dizzy and nauseous. (yes I'm aware that I'm only 23, but 23 is old for a dog.) 

Sometimes I feel like I'm running out of time to do all the thing I have to do and can't be even bothered with the things I want to do.

Sometimes I wonder if the messages I send are actually read.

So much love to give, yet so misunderstood. The story of my life. It's actually something I thought up while taking some of the pitbulls, at the shelter I volunteer at, for a walk. I think it holds true for the both of us.

Just finished watching "Strangeland" and it got me thinking. My generation did get off easy, where's our rite of passage? That painful experience that allows us to call ourselves adults?

I've found that most of my furry neighbors are drawn to me. It's nice to have some company while I'm out just staring at the sky or cleaning out my car. If only it was so easy with women. Well part of being human is that we fear what we don't understand and it would seem like my neighbors understand me more than women. I can only hope that I will be understood with time.