No day isn't boring. Ever.

Today, I feel that I'm too awake to my past and future. My thoughts are mostly consumed by pondering how long I've existed with hardly a shred of reciprocated compassion, how very little I've done at all, and how these circumstances will undoubtedly affect the rest of my life.

As of lately, I've wondered if years of this sort of deprivation can cause us to forget what it's like to be in a state where a sense of purpose is there to help push us forward regardless of how we feel. To be demotivated because you don't even remember what happiness is like. And by happiness, I don't mean just having a day where you don't feel so weighed down by your hardships, I'm speaking of a state of happiness that's authentic because it's brought about by that sense of purpose I mentioned, not just a chemical imbalance in the brain.

... and then it's October. It seems like only yesterday when I was moping about the holidays, but it was last year. I've been posting in this blog for almost a year. I still feel quite the same about the "jolliest time of the year," but there's a little something new this time around, and it's J. She looks forward to the holidays. I don't want to be some kind of pest who pulls others down with me by expressing my disliking of the situation, but I most definitely won't be putting on a fake smile while discreetly feeling like the outsider I inevitably will.

I've avoided K's facebook profile for nearly a year. I used to be tempted to do that all the time just because I wanted to see her pictures. But it's like a sweet and sour candy that's sweet at first, then hits me with an overwhelming sourness. It reminds me of the undeniable fact that she's fine without me and probably deriving far more satisfaction from life than me.

Despite still managing to avoid her profile, this source of bitterness happened again yesterday. A few weeks ago I installed a new browser which includes a sidebar that provides easy access to a handful of features, and one of them is facebook's messaging program. I use it to talk to J. On the left, there's always a list of some contacts (who I never speak to, they're just on my friends list. I added them awhile back for the stupidest reason, which I won't be explaining.) K is one of them. For about as long as I've been active on this site, I thought she'd quit facebook. I only knew (or, more accurately, inferred) because her profile picture, which she used to change all the time, had been the same for not much less than a whole year. But yesterday, she updated it, and she has that same elated expression as always. And so repeats the dreadful reminder, she's perfectly fine without me, she probably thinks I don't even think of her anymore, not that it's of any effect to her at all.

Even J most likely thinks my unrealistic feelings toward K have subsided by now. Given the 4 years that it's been, I really wish that was true. I don't speak to anyone about it, except right here in this blog.

I had an unsettling dream last night. I don't recall much of it, it seems I rarely remember my dreams in great detail, but what happened at the ending of it is something that I honestly believe may have been a very early childhood memory, from as far back as I can possibly remember. Everything else was some weird series of events that took place in what resembled a theater, not a movie theater but a traditional style theater you'd visit to see a play. But, that's not relevant. The last event that occurred in the dream must have been buried for at least 15 years. But that's just going by the assumption that it was actually a reliving of a far gone memory, I lack an opinion of the likelihood that it was or wasn't, I really just don't know.

In this memory, my mind seems to be hinting that I was a kid. It's very unusual because while I do have insanely odd dreams all the time, I can't think of any other instances of me being a kid in my adult dreams. I must have been about 3, 4, or 5 years old, possibly 6, but my best guess is 3 or 4. It's very brief. You see, my mother has a habit of leaving doors open on hot summer days. A stranger entered the house through the front door. I didn't see him enter, but I walked into the living room while he was there. He noticed me and immediately bolted, and that was it. I don't find it the least bit far-fetched to believe that in reality, some hooligan could have peeked in while the front door was open at a moment when my mom and/or dad (depending whether they were still married then) were in a different room, and thought he could quickly snatch something and get away with it. And this must have been about 2000 or 2001, I'd assume that alarm systems and video surveillance were less accessible and less effective at that time than they are now. But I'm also wondering if it was something quite different, maybe someone noticed the open door and didn't know if the occupant(s) knew the door was open, but fled because their anticipation was that the little boy would alert his parents that a stranger was in the house.

It's a mystery, and I'm pretty sure it always will be. From one perspective, I'm skeptical that long dead memories can resurface like that, but on the other hand, I don't see why else I would be wondering if it happened in reality.