Do you remember when Oasis broke up and I thought the world was going to end because of it? Well, you don't remember because you didn't know me then. Perhaps you remember Oasis, but you definitely don't remember me in the mid 90s. That's too bad. It's been several years and still no one has saved me. What the fuck is up with that? I used to think that I didn't need saving, but that's just a lie. Maybe I could save myself, but I don't think I'm cut out for saving myself. I could maybe save someone else, but not myself. I'm too similar to myself, you know? I can save someone who is different than me; someone whose flaws comliment my own. Yeah I don't even know what I'm talking about. I'm just going to continue typing though, because, maybe, I can avoid worrying about the 17 pages I have write in the next week. I'm going to continue typing because maybe I won't think about the six long months of ignorance I have to survive. Maybe if I keep typing I'll never have to think about anything again. Maybe I'll never have to suffer through awkward situations, maybe painful ones too. Maybe I'll never have to really ask a girl out. Maybe will just bump into me typing a decade from now and she won't mind the fact that all I do is type and maybe she'll like me and maybe I'll never have to actually live life because it's really getting on my nerves and the worst part is that I can't figure out WHY life is annoying me so much. It's supposed to be over. My mind is supposed to be clear. I went and did the thing and I still feel like I'm wearing an albatross, a big fucking albatross. Maybe if I keep typing this albatross will just fall off or fly away. Maybe the albatross is caused by the incessant typing or maybe they're caused be the same thing. Maybe I can blame all my problems on more poor spelling, grammar and syntax. Maybe I can blame it on my copious use of 'maybe'. Maybe I should just stop. Yeah that's what I'll do.