I’m pretty sure my IQ level just dove off a cliff since uh spring classes ended. My brain feels like mush, I sound like a dude, I write like a dude, and I probably smell like a dude. Videogaming. It’s uh, it’s something alright. 18 hours of it that one day before work in the afternoon. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Don’t recall drinking, but I do remember peeing. Yeah. So I’m still suffering from mild withdrawal symptoms, such as: inability to sleep before 8am in the morning, attention deficits, being unable to glue my eyes on the academic prize (aka orgo), and uh, word fluff. Like this “uh” I’ve been constantly puhlastering all over my journal entry.

But I’m happy. I think. Or maybe content‘s a better word to describe my current state of mind-bliss and care-not about chicks or chick-flicks. It’s funny really. I write so much better when I’m depressed and/or emotionally unstable (and don’t get me wrong, I adore my writing ability during these so-called episodes), but I’m just really okay and dare I say, happy with myself at the moment. Who gives a shit if I’m not my philosophical/deranged/vaguely ambiguous/stalkerish self. I’d rather feel… good. I feel good. I’m alright. I’m content, and all is well, and Steffi’s alright. You’re alright. Right? right.

So as I was saying, there’s like this give-or-take tug-of-war type thing always going with me. With people other than me. With objects, emotions, ideas. Things. Like you can’t just expect to play videogames all fucking month long without there being some sort of physiological rewiring of your mental capacity. No, don’t be silly. I mean, even if say, you could—as in, if you were a straight-A student who played a freakishly good sum of videogames—that’s not to say that you’re social abilities would not be compromised. Plain and simple, you’d be a nerd. A social outcast to the norm of everyday conversation. A fucking twat. Because you can’t be a level 127 wizard from Land of Loserville without sacrificing your social life. You can’t get the girl and play an obsessively unhealthy amount of videogames (primarily RPGs) at the same time. Shit just doesn’t happen. It doesn’t. I swear to God so sue me Jesus.

Where was I going with this? Oh, right.

It’s about knowing what you want and knowing what’s important. And sometimes (most of the time) it’s never both. So you have to choose. ‘Cuz there’s always a choice, and really the only obvious choice is with which of the two—emotion or logic—appeals to you the most. Me? I think I lean more towards logic. But only when it comes to girls; I feel the need to absorb and retain all logic before I encounter the female species. They’re a confusing bunch. Always with the mind games and rampart indecision. Bollocks.

But no matter who you are, you’re always gonna want more. Always. I can’t stress that enough. It’s something that’s completely innate, driven, the drive to completely submerge yourself into the it of all its. You want it, but logic tells you No. You can’t have it; it would mean dire with a capital D and emotional turmoil with a capital Fuck You.

And so, we’re all hyprocrites. I tell you to go after your heart because you won’t have another a chance at Girl-A, but fuck, who am I kidding? Have I ever taken my advice? No. Hell no. So why are you taking mine? Because logically, say, if human beings were built on logic as opposed to that other thing called emotion, I would be taking my advice. So the way I see it, if I can’t pull through with what I have to do, then I’m helping you fulfill yours by likening my would-be decision into your head. Which hopefully, you’ll take because your my friend, and I only want the best for you.

That’s really what all friends have in mind when they give advice to their respective friends.

They don’t mean to be hypocrites, they just… they want something, and this thing, whatever it is, they just can’t seem to attain it because they don’t know how (or not yet at least). And it’s the same reason why we surf the net and we read, constantly, and sporadically and obnoxiously, because we’re curious bastards for one, and because… we take these excerpts. Clippings. Quotes. Whatever you wanna call them. Save them, hoard them, and we read them and recite them because we want to be that better person. We want to be that someone that Girl-A looks to, someone she can adore, admire, respect, love. Someone all these damned idealist quotebooks describe.

Fuck it, just be yourself.