That's pleasant.

Sometimes I wish I could be someone else. Just to get away from the silly wee things I ponder over at night. But who knew something so small that just skits over you brain could actually cause a tear to trickle? I'm going to miss some people. I already miss some people, and I never actually thought about how much I missed them till now. Why do I dream about the strangest things and there is always someone I miss with me? I can't wait till I'm thirty. And I can't wait till I'm fifty either. When I'm thirty, I don't know where I'll be but I hope that I get out of here. I hope that I still regret everything that I've done. I don't know about other people and how their minds are like clockwork, but how could we live without our regrets? We would be nowhere, because we would have nothing to learn form. We would be ignorant, obnoxious little fuckers, even more so than we are now. I want to die at the height of my regrets. They say life's too short. But I look at those people, those people who are dying of cancer, aids, hepatitis C, hunger... Sometimes I reckon that greedy spoilt bastards like myself don't deserve to live when those who would appreciate a life so much more have to die. Sometimes the unknown sounds better than the known. Death sounds better than life. But I don't want to die yet. I can wait a while. But until then, I'll just carry on living while those unworthy of death continue to die.