Zodiac.

Just finished reading Robert Graysmith's first book on the Zodiac killer. There's something strange about reading about unsolved crimes. It highlights how incapable we are controlling our society, I think. The use of aliases was annoying, but on the whole an enjoyable and sometimes scary read. Scary because it's all true.

I've realized that any higher ambitions I once hoped to attain while still living or being in constant contact with my family are unfeasable. I can't even stay in this house. I need a steady income. More friends to validate my existence. A car to break through to the other side. I need to go to college and relive high school the right way. I NEED PUSSY!!! to really validate my existence. I need to lose all this weight so I don't hate what I see in the mirror. God, how did everything go so wrong? 8 months in this room...cabin fever is a very real thing.