So yea, everyone has their past that they never want to bring up again. It's sorta like, "I don't ever want to experience or think about the experience in my past." I didn't kill anyone or anything like that. But I might as well have. It feels like I've been in a mental prison for the past year or so. OK, maybe more like a couple of years. I tried breaking out of it by writing it all down, but that didn't really help. It only made things worse. I mean, I wrote over 100 pages trying to get it all out of me, and with each page, I kept hoping that the next one would be the one to set me free. Then I figured I could keep writing and submit it for publishing after 500 or so pages, but that was just based on high hopes. I stopped about 5 months ago, and I only have about 150 pages.

Well, it doesn't matter too much. I'm about 200 miles away from my past now. I love it. I know, I know. "Andy, what's this 'past' you're talking about?"

Well, as I said earlier, it's nothing I want to talk about. The only necessary information about it that anyone needs to know is that I'm perfect. Well, I'm my definition of perfect.

"But Andy, how do you define perfect?"

Perfect - (adj) see also perfection, perfectly, perfectionist; something that is desirous to many, adapts to remove flaws, in the process of becoming flawless, Andy. Ex: Andy is perfect.

This is going to take further explanation, but right now I don't feel like it.

Roommate quote for this year and next...
"Don't worry, we're both fully clothed...well I have pants on at least."