i found this

4/6/2009 Randy "American Standard, Crimson Transparent" C. says:

I was a late bloomer. Like around 45. When I realized what all this BS was really about. Which is nothing. There is no Yelp, Money, Toys or Sex after death. Just the experiences of friends, family and loved ones you carry with you in your heart of hearts to the grave and beyond. The only way to live forever is through the way you touch peoples lives while you are here - and they then carry those memories with them. Am I deep or what?

dreaming.

today i woke up and my mind was racing. I was buzzing from the dream i had just had. But thats nothing new, because i love dreaming.
it seems that the places i go in my dreams, are the places ive been to when i was younger. Theyre my collected memories of my childhood and my time spent on this earth
and i find that so magical. I had a dream that i was driving along this path with my family, sitting on the backseat of my dads 4 wheels tricycle, i looked out and i felt like i could recognize the place but i couldnt put my finger on where and what these places were
in my dream, i suddenly shouted 'we've been here before! this is my dream but i know that we've been here before! the next block is dad's friends house!' i was somehow really excited inside, i had a feeling that i couldnt put my finger on it. i dont know what it was but it made me happy
although when we pulled up to the side of the road, the area where dad's friends house once stood was empty and filled with blocks of concrete and bricks.
weird.

i dont remember how old i was when i first saw you since i was so young, but strangely enough, i remember exactly what you looked like. how you staggered towards me, whimpering with fear. You were a cross between a dalmatian and a stray and i remember thinking how funny you looked because you were so, so spotty and you had a really big belly that pokes out really far. I loved how when we throw food towards you, you would jump and catch it through mid air. how you'd get so excited whenever you see us that you ended up hurting us by jumping at us and scratching us in the process. How you would chase our cars whenever we leave our house. How you talk in your sleep and how everyone loves you because you are such a kind, smart and amazing dog. I would never forget the day we had to leave you in Thailand when we left for england. It was so painful to see you chasing after us for the last time, seeing that look of hope on your face, thinking that we'd probably return in an hour or two. I couldnt stop crying. When we returned to Thailand 5 years later, you were still there, i wasnt sure if you actually remembered us, but seeing you again was enough to make me happy. To me, you were still the same Monty that i grew up with, the same Monty that I love. I still cant believe you have been gone for two years. Its been two years but i still cant stop crying about you, whcih is what im doing right now. I regret not seeing you in your last hour. I regret the 5 years we had to spend apart, there were so much more we could have done together. Even now, everytime i think about you, i cant help but cry like crazy. I still remember how you smelt, the texture of your fur, your wet nose. You were such a fighter Monty, such a good dog. I truly miss you and I hope that one day we can meet again in some other dimension.

every single day

i yearn for a friend. a social status. i always want to be accepted by society. to be cool, popular, funny.

and because i had never achieved it, i keep on trying. i keep on looking and telling myself 'so far, so good. so far, so good. you're doing fine'
but im not. i hate myself. i hate how my mind work and how shallow and obnoxious i can be.

please, somebody, give me a sign. tell me that one day my inner child will wake up from this teenage body so i can start my life at the age of 7 again.