It's late, I have to work tomorrow, but I don't care. There's more night to be had that I shouldn't waste.

But then, there isn't a whole lot to do either, except to watch pointless infomercials selling you things that you don't really need. Or things that you think you need. What? I'm fat? Really...

For example, why would I want to call up a 1-900 line? The women they show on those commercials are sexy and artifically good looking, yes. But the ones behind the mouthpiece could be a man for all you know. Yet people still keep calling anyway, some even go as far as proposing marriage to a complete stranger whom they've just had an orgasm listening to. Perhaps it's a sign of the times. Reality in itself is no longer good enough to satisfy, and we must find more artificial ways to fulfill our destinies...

Like this Diaryland thing in the first place. Really, it's no more than a place to exhibit your innermost thoughts in relative annonymity. Why would we do that? It's a question that begs to be answered.

Some perhaps want to meet people, which is justifiable, but in the reverse order. You meet someone by knowing about their innermost feelings first, then find out about what they're like as a person later. Innermost feelings, by and large, are all the same amongst the lot of us. We all crave the same ideals, want the same pleasures, suffer from the same pain. Although that's a generalization of sorts, it's mostly true, in my opinion.

Others just want to show off their writing, and perhaps wanting to garner accolades from other fellow human beings. Satisfy the ego, and the rest will follow. Although you'll rarely find anyone who will admit to that, I'm sure many do think this way. Narcissistic? Perhaps, but there's nothing wrong with that.

And then there are those who just have a need to vent. And perhaps get sympathy for it. I do both, but it's not an option. I like to vent, not as much to my friends, because I don't want to bore them with the details. I like to vent to strangers, because no one has to like it or hate it. It's just there. And there's someone out there that will understand this, ultimately...