Stabbing myself just isn't my style, I'm more of an occasional verbal-outburst, incoherent-analogy-using piece of furry garbage. So you probably don't have to worry about me going away any time soon. For better or worse. But do know this: I compartmentalize other people too. Everyone I meet goes into the "don't get attached/temporary" bin. Its pretty foolish not to, since I know that's what bin I will always be relegated to no matter where I go, and there's no point in putting effort into something that is regarded as irrevocably auxiliary to the main, sex-driven core of society. Quite simply: I have nothing to contribute except for a handful of skills which are of relatively little use in a culture which abhors itself - which further worsens the outlook since there is no amount of acheivement that can ever put me into the sort of status where one can fill the holes in their life with money, I'll always be behind. And even that dismal life of an architect is fundamentally out of reach. Is it any wonder then, that I assume residence in the temporary bin and can't dare to initiate anything more meaningful towards anyone? Why is the measure of eligibility not one of "is he good at what he wants to do", but rather, "can he excel at games devised by those who absolutely can't"?
I've made A's in every arch class I've ever taken, and three of them were earned under handicap of second hand pot smoke and medication interruption. Either these were A-for-effort classes, and the stories of Dr Zoltan driving students to tears were exaggerated, or I just have a natural talent which has been almost, but not quite, beaten out of me by living with people who regard all this invention as an indulgence and a luxury, rather than a necessity for solving any kind of problems bigger than an individual person, or the allocation of a week in a single dimension.