i_am_toxic andru235 seems to be that at times i pollute the area around me, without doing anything but being present i try to contain myself during those times, holing up in my room and working on other stuff... ...yet, though i'm more independent than some are, i still need contact and there is little to be had; i thought that as one approached thirty one 'found ones niche'; the only niche i know is mine is an alcove most forbidden, though no one's articulation of why has ever satisfied me; the only thing that anchors me to this world is the knowledge that my earth-family would be hurt greatly if i left, and so i stay...but i want to go; i'm ready to find some other planet or something...and if there is only the doubted oblivion, so be it, but if i know nothing else, i know there is more than this... so i wait. and say the same things over and over. waiting. and i suggest to people, as they tire of my presages, i suggest they take an interest in my compositions which vary greatly, or my short stories, but then they turn and say, "well, if you aren't doing those things to make a profit or get famous, why are you doing them?" and i groan, awaiting the 18th century or a new planet... so i create onward, to the apathy of most everyone, knowing that if i bring nothing else from this world, i bring a portfolio of transcentenarial music... but is that enough? what about the fabled friendships? some say that men don't make friends, they make business contacts. but i genuinely offer myself as a friend, sans expectations, so i cannot become cynical (using the modern definition of 'cynical', that is) i sense there is something i am missing...is it a brain? a heart? a soul? no, i have all three...is it friends? is it community? is it kinship? those three i haven't... but the former are inherently present and the latter are inherently unsolicitable... blah blah blah...what do i get out of writing this dreck? nothing. i acquire nothing, and yet now, fool that i am, will enter my name and click the "blather" button. oh, boy! 050609 what's it to you? who go blather from