When I resolve myself to my evenings, my late nights up, my day-by-day routine of staying on my computer, probably watching Orange Is The New Black or House of Cards on Netflix (which are very two neat shows), I rarely ever think. I don't press it. I wake up, get on my computer, then go to bed. You probably might be thinking this is a bit of a weird routine to have, if not a bid of a sad one - I should be doing else, shouldn't I? - well, I am a teenager. And this is the usual thing your usual English teenager does. Either way, though, I like to think of myself not as a usual English teenager, but an interesting usual English teenager, if I can strive to be interesting in any shape or form; I'm side-tracking now.

Even though the clock's about to strike midnight for me, I've spent the last half an hour thinking, which is usually a bad thing. You see, what you might not understand about me is that if I give myself the free space to think, I get upset. I get upset with the things I've said and done to people in the past, and I get upset with the inabilities of being unable to involve myself in this community as much as I wished to be. I start to think if sitting around on a computer is even worth while, if I should keep channeling my life to this. It's worrisome thoughts, granted, which is why I don't give myself the free time for them - but I have, tonight, weirdly enough, and I felt like conveying my thoughts in a journal.

While I'm sitting here, typing, though, I like to try and ignore the temptation of the nearby window or belt behind me and the pole above my head and think about the things I'm striving for, and that's what keeps me going - other than my constant distractions, that is. A very good friend of mine asked me what I wanted to do with my life, and I said I didn't want to flip patties. I didn't want to grow up and have a bad job, and have no friends. That's what keeps me going, keeps me distracted along with this infernal computer; the selected few. From a cheery, funny friend who of all the things works grave yards at IKEA, to a very close and supportive college student, who really shouldn't take the time out of his life to look out from me, to the aspiring, if not lonely animator who wants company, over to the Halo fanatic (just like me!), the mid-western creator, all the way to a guy wanting to do his best in university in my very country. They're the people who help me keep slugging along, even if they might not personally pitch in. I suppose the thought that counts.

Of all of them, though, there's one. I haven't known him long, but I want to know him for longer. Perhaps before I met him I didn't believe in perfect friends, but I think I'm inclined to say - I do. He's a charitable, kind, and funny guy to talk to. He makes me smile wider than Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow, and he makes me cry more than Season 3 Episode 9 of Game of Thrones. He knows who he is - he might be worried he's impacting me so much, but I'll like to simmer him down and say so long as I make him smile, he'll make me smile.

Just a little run of my mind before I head to bed.

~ Renascentia