Don't You Hate it When...

            Yesterday I got onto one of those fun trains of thought that leave you kinda stabbed in the chest with your own words. Somehow my observation that I get a lot of spam turned into 'I get about five real pageviews when I subtract it' and then 'I need to promote myself more' to 'I care too much about what people think' to finally 'I am not good and there's no point and blah blah blah I'm sorry.' I'm one of THOSE people. The ones that will listen to their friends rant for hours on end about boyfriend this and parents that because we don't know what else to do. (I'm assuming I'm not the only one. Seven billion goddang people here now and at least one's gotta be a little similar...) The ones that just don't gel with people properly and won't remember the name of a kid sitting halfway across the classroom and probably never will. I don't go nuts when given a little bit anonymity. I'm still timid, mostly silent, and more than a little invisible. I watch. Just joining in is something I've nearly forgotten how to do.
God the melancholy is strong with this one.
Maybe that's not that much of a bad thing.
But let's try for something else besides depressing all the same.
           I've decided to write a story based on what I thought Doctor Who was when I first heard of it, and I'm going to post it. Writing the first bit now. G'Bye.

T.Y.G.E.R.