I Am Neither Spontaneous Nor Ready For

I Find Life Itself Provides Ample And Sufficient Tests Of My Valor And Mettle: Illness; Betrayal; Fruitless Searches For Love; Working For The Abusive, The Insane, And The Despotic. All Challenges Easily As Thrilling To Me As Scrambling Over Icy Rock In A Pair Of Barely Adequate Boots.

Almost Any Age Is Better Than Twenty-two.

I Am No Fun At All. In Fact, I Am Anti-fun. Not As In Anti-violence, But As In Anti-matter. I Am Not So Much Against Fun - Although I Suppose I Kind Of Am - As I Am The Opposite Of Fun. I Suck The Fun Out Of A Room. Or Perhaps I'm Just A Different Kind Of Fun; The Kind That Leaves On Bereft Of Hope; The Kind Of Fun That Ends In Tears.

You Can't Win All The Contests And Then Lose At One Contest And Say, 'why Am I Not Winning This Contest As Well?' It's Random. So Truthfully, Again, Do I Wish It Weren't Me? Absolutely. I Still Can't Make That Logistic Jump To Thinking There's A Reason Why It Shouldn't Be Me.

Unfortunately, There's No Greater Rhyme Or Reason As To Why It Would Be Me. And Since There Is No Answer As To Why Me, It's Not A Question I Feel Really Entitled To Ask.