What do you want to write? I guess I want to discuss my feelings first. What were you feeling yesterday? I was depressed about life. About how I don't talk or feel things. What do you mean? A long time ago, I know I tried to surpress my feelings. I locked them away and used a string of personalities to cover up who I truly was. I came to a point a few years ago where I had to remove those masks. I thought I had done so and I thought I would be able to feel. But what I've realized is that while I feel like I've made a positive step forward, I don't think I can truly feel yet.

What is it about you that you feel is not "correct"? That's a strange question. I guess it's this: I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel. For example, my grandma is not doing too well. She's be in and out of the hospital, but I don't feel much for her. I never really knew her, but still I feel that I should somehow feel for her. Think about her, or at least miss her. But I don't do any of those things. Does that make me a monster?

Define monster for me. I guess a monster is somebody who doesn't feel; an asocial being. I guess killers would be monsterish (nice word). Is that what you are? A monster? I hope not. But I'm not sure I truly feel.

What about the other day? Didn't you feel then? I think I did. I went on a second date with maria to a museum. I had been looking forward to it the previous evening and the entire day. When we finally met up, I didn't feel the same (I think I was depressed--probably because of food again). Afterwards, although the date didn't go exceptionally well, I still had hopes that we would go on a third date. That's when I figured she didn't like me anymore. When I asked when she'd like to go out again, she answered, "I had a really good time." The weird thing is that during the end of the first date, I had told her that when I don't think things are working out on blind dates, I usually say, "I had a nice time," when they ask if we are going to see each other again. I think she did that to me; although I'm not sure. She did ask me what I was doing the rest of the weekend. I might call her tomorrow to find out for sure.

So then you do feel things? Didn't you feel something for her? I dunno. I guess I should get back to my discussion about feelings. Okay. Why else do you think your feelings aren't "real"? Another reason could be because of the types of discussions I have. I like talking about silly, nonconsequential stuff. I like gossiping; I like talking about my "theories" on life, which are just small-talk turned into theories (for example, all of traffic are caused by three old ladies at the front of the road). I tried to be cute and charming, but I know what's really going on. I'm covering up for something. It's like I never learned how to talk. I can talk about metaphysics, I can talk about every day activities, and religions, but when it comes to, I don't know. When it comes to talking about real stuff, that's where I'm lost.

What do you mean by real stuff? What do people talk about that involves real stuff. That's another good question. Perhaps there's nothing out there that's real. What is reality? You see? When I try to head in that direction, I'll go down the road that leads me to metaphysical or "deep" truths talk. I don't want to go there. I want to stay firmly planted on the ground; to understand what other people talk about.

You ever think that perhaps you're not like other people. That what you talk about is important to you. You do feel. You know that because you dream of bad things happening and you know how you feel after they do. Like when you dream about your mother dying. I do feel sad when I dream about that. But you know what always happens in those dreams? I always end up doing something heroic or living better because of the death. Isn't that sick? It's like I want her to die so I can get this reward that I know isn't there. I know it's my familial support that makes me who I am. Without it, I wouldn't be half the man I am--I won't go into how I think I'm only half a man. Is there something wrong with me? Are my feelings still fucked up from where I was way back when I used to wear personalities as masks and change them at the flip of a coin?

My hand hurts now. I'll leave it at that. Nothing learned, nothing felt, nothing thought-up. Answers don't come quickly to nimble fingers.