Please Forgive Me If I Act a Little Strange
<< 5:43 p.m. - Thursday, May. 08, 2003 >>
Megan and I have been having an ongoing conversation on my lack of talking; and I�m finding my reasoning half assed. Do you want to know why I am so quiet? Whatever. I don�t care. I�ll tell you anyway. I don�t like being wrong. I don�t like being looked down on. Or mocked. I don�t like being in a discussion where my ideas aren�t law. Because more often than not they are shot down. I�m finding the word �existentialism� to be my word of the day. This is what I think:

There is no such thing as a soul. We are flesh and nothing more.
Any congregation that induces others to join and live from a set of rules is shit. (To clarify, I dislike the institution not the people who folloe it). Sorry Grandma, I hate the church.
Our lives are inconsequential. We are just tiny insects waiting to be squashed by time.

I�d rather keep my mouth shut and look wise for doing so, rather than dispensing my empty opinions. Ahh.. the endorphins are teetering out, and thus I become angst-ified.