just why? I had wanted to be a writer. I couldn't and I didn't understand why. So I thought perhaps if I write just something, I might eventually get me somewhere. Also something to remember who I was. It did not get anywhere as a writer of fiction. In retrospect I just couldn't simplify and white wash human behavior enough. Or something like that. Now, there are times that perhaps I could... but why bother? I suppose it does leave me with a record of the awful state I was in. Since then I've only run into more awful people. And then had a pretty terrible health issue that I had to diagnose and treat on my own. Somehow, here I am, doing quite well now. Despite living in a world of so many nasty people. Health is good. Easy job. I interact occasionally with a few decent people. Though it is scary how much stupidity I'm amongst. It is the edge of extinction. The end. The last instant.