You know that feeling? That feeling in your chest that cuts through your heart and crushes your ribs...it makes your bones 10 times as heavy, and it makes your muscles incapable of holding yourself up...that if you were to collapse to the floor, all the strength of all the rock in all the world wouldn't be able to stop you from sinking deeper and deeper into mindless oblivion. I hate that feeling. Ugh. Where do I begin? First off...I've been here before. If you search my username, you'll find I posted here back in late 2006. I stuck around. I decided to stay, thinking that maybe things would get better. Since the highs and lows and curveballs and home runs that life threw at me, I feel like that time period was peaches and cream compared to today. Ugh. Allow me to explain. I have discovered recently that I have Asperger's Syndrome. (Which, as a side note, is by far the strangest experience I have ever had in my life bar none...reading wikipedia or articles on Asperger's...reading a full detail of your life in far more eloquence than your own words could have ever put it)So I'm not normal. I'm not like anyone, and I feel I can say that with confidence. I'm the kid that could recite to you almost every scheduled commercial airline flight in the western United States, how many flights between each route, what aircraft is used, what gate it will depart, and other pointless and meticulous details. I also write. A lot. It's my dream to become a hollywood screenwriter, but that's not why I write. I write because it really is the only thing keeping me from insanity. It's the lifeboat that's saving me from drowning. I write screenplays because it simply makes me happy. Unfortunately, it's not enough. Ugh. I find myself walking seedy neighborhoods at night 2-3 times a week for the last month looking for someone to come and mug me, so that I can spit in his face and have him off me. I don't want to commit suicide, but I want to end my life. I figure that my family would have enough trouble dealing with my death that knowing I did it purposefully would just be too much. Again. I can't emphasize that enough. I am not normal. I have never met anyone in the real world that is remotely like me. I'm 17 and in College at the moment. I don't listen to rap or rock, I listen to movie score. Who the hell does that? I have this obsession with aviation...something I both love and hate at the same time. I write music and write screenplays. Worst, absolutely positively worst out of all of this, I am a social disaster. I get extremely anxious around people for no reason at all. I get worried that I'll say the wrong thing, or that the people around me really don't like me, but merely claim to just because they don't want to hurt my feelings. But unfortunately, I've grown up thinking that everybody has to be social and outgoing to be successful (which is not entirely untrue), so I often awkwardly thrust myself into social situations which almost always fail. Even worse than this, I met a girl. Yes I met a girl, isn't this how it always starts? Ever since an embarrassing crush I had in high school which led to utter disaster, I decided that I would never meet anybody of the opposite sex that was remotely compatable with me. I was far too abnormal, and so I decided to embrace all of my single-ness and let me be me, so I could be spared of any failed hopes and feelings similar to the first paragraph. But I met a girl. She was beautiful. Utterly magnificent. Really, truthfully, one of the most beautiful girls I had ever met. Both inside and out. She was cute and she had a heart of gold. But most of all, she turned out to be incredibly like me. She liked the same music, the same movies, the same food, the same everything it seemed like. For once in my life, I actually met somebody that I could honestly relate to on so many things. And worst of all, she liked me back. After meeting her I summon the courage to ask her out on a date, which was admittedly a little awkward, but it was a strangely charming awkward. I was dazzled. Completely and totally dazzled. I was the kid that stumbled upon a million dollars. Sure, a million dollars sounds great doesn't it!? But what the hell does a kid do with a million dollars? I had found an incredibly rare and precious thing, but I had absolutely no clue what to do. I became so afraid of losing this rare and precious thing, that I overanalysed every word I said and everything I did, so I did the only thing I knew how to do: not be rude. Unfortunately, that translated to nothing at all. The date actually went fine...we both had fun and talked...but I couldn't stop wondering whether she liked me back or not. In hindsight, it seems blindingly obvious, but back then I had not a clue. After the date I didn't ask her out again. Why? Beats me, but I think I had it going in my head that it'd be rude to do so. I think I was just pissed scared. So I acted as more a friend and saw her frequently for the next 4 weeks, after figuring that she didn't really like me back in the more-than-friends way. Biggest mistake I ever made. Because as it turns out, she did like me back. She waited for me, and I was so scared of losing this precious thing we had going on, that I actually ended up doing exactly that. Because just before Spring Break, I find out that she's dating someone else. Here is this incredible person. This rarity. This beauty. I had never met anyone like her. And I lost her. All in my blatant stupidity. And I get that.....that.....that feeling. That sinking feeling. That sinking feeling of failure. And every past failure I've ever made in my life suddenly pokes my back and shouts in my ear "Hey there, remember me?! Long time no see!!" That's just one of the reasons I have come to this. That's just one of the reasons I have come to walking around dangerous places in total darkness hoping to antagonize a fight so that someone will kill me. You see, this whole thing has made me realize that I'm going to be doing this for the rest of my life. I'm going to see these incredible bits of hope here and there, but I'll somewhere along the way be so afraid of messing it up that I'll do nothing at all, and end up sitting there watching opportunity fly away. Well f*** it. There isn't a point. There never was a point. It's all BS. I just have absolutely no desire to live. I had no desire to live before the whole incident above, and really, that was just the straw that broke the camel's back. It's made me realize that other than music and movies, I can't find happiness in anything. It's all futile. All this preparation I've made for my life is completely futile. And, geez, it's really gotta say something when you see people in movies who get stabbed with a sword or a gun, and you can't help but get hit with a wave of pure envy. Wishing you could be them. Wishing you could die an honorable death with a friend by your side to mutter your last thoughts. The Nothing of Death is better than this messed up existance called life. This isn't life. This is torture. This is the helpless fly who gets his wings torn off in the hands of a curious little boy. This is total nonsense. Please... Please... Please... I just need to escape this total nonsense. Maybe I just need to talk to someone, or maybe I just needed to vent this out. A better, brighter, happier day feels just as impossible as any M.C. Escher drawing right now.