a journal

I bought one today at the nearest store. It's only a compact red notebook, something to be carried around inconspicuously. It was on impulse that I got one at all--I looked at it, thought about all the things I've been thinking about, and said hey, why not? Ideas flow right in and then flutter right back out. I never have a chance to remember what it was. So I got this.

I never thought of myself as a thinking or writing person, but there is a sense of empowerment from writing this down.

This cafe, even with it's cheery decorations, makes me feel a little miserable. I had a couple of "friends" in Elysia, but I never felt comfortable around them. So I left for a few months, tried to block out the supernatural world that hovered about the very atmosphere. I attempted the everyday human life that existed before my entrance into the world of Others. Needless to say, it didn't work. I would notice an occasional feline that would stare at me as I walked by. Made me think shapeshifter. People with hats got me wondering what they were hiding in their muss of hair. Demons horns, perhaps?

It makes me think back to my teenage years, where I'd sit in the corner of the classroom while the other kids puzzled over what to label me as. I wasn't smart, pretty, weird, funny, or anything like that. I don't like little children. I don't like animals (Borris is alright, I suppose). The only thing I actually liked was money, which I didn't have a lot of. Even now I'm beginning to think it's a little overrated.

It's funny how things don't change when you're an adult. In fact, it's almost hilarious how accurately everything's been reenacted. While I'm sitting by myself here, the Others are sitting at the tables across from me. If they weren't vampires, I might actually want to talk to them.

I'm going to be socially retarded for life.