I was hoping when the conversation went dead,
That it didn’t mean that being around me was awkward; like a paranoid android,
I didn’t talk to you because I thought you hated me.

In the weeks following I drowned myself in work, to pass the time. In addition I wrote a list, of women who might be interested in talking to me. I have not talked to any of them because my favorite rationalization of their not wanting to talk with me is that they don’t know me, and as such, they cannot hate me. It is a fool proof scheme.

Oh, what’s the use of falling in love?

We are all hurtling through time, on our way to the in evitable heat death of everything we know and don’t know, in every single world, in every single solar system, in every single galaxy, of every single universe. Well, I’m not sure about every universe, but if the rapture happens before then, I have no reason to fear because I cannot be locked out of Heaven for the sole reason of never finding love.
Can I?

Oh, curses on my round little head and
Dreary, Alan Rickman voice
(may he rest in peace).
I’m paranoid, manically depressed, and have the robotic tendency of repeating every day moment for moment. I attempt to compensate with my navigation skills. Call me Marvin.

A paranoid android with a radiohead.
My own fear of failure is the cause of
My lack of love, or is it our postmodern society?
So long as I never try, I’ll at least be able
To say I never failed.
So long and thanks for all the fish.