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Mi amice, quia ego te requiro ita. Quare nos quidem quid ego dimittam vos? Nunquam hoc sensit. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, accumsan sit amet, dicere et ... "Nos iterum conveniant." My dear friend, how I miss you so. Why did we part, why did I let you go? I've never felt this way. I need your support, and I need you to say... "We will meet again."

You're a compulsive liar, you have privacy issues, you have trust issues, you're pranoid, you have trouble accepting reality, you have a million contridicting personalities, you are irresponcible, you're selfcentered, you have trouble dealing with emotions of any kind, you're unreliable, you can't understand love, you never keep any of your friends, you're cold, you're heartless, you won't get close to people, you betray people, you take everything you have for grantid, you have no consious, you're disrespectful, you're not street-smart nor book-smart, you waste your talents, you're a coward, you're inconsistant, you're incompitant, and you w

   Memory... Is it not hard to believe that we, as people, are supported by something so fragil? We rely on our memories so much for the simplest and most difficult tasks, and everything inbetween. And on the other hand, it is what could be tampered with the most easily.   (I realized, at work yesterday, that I don't remember most of my childhood.) Say your memory escapes you, then what do you believe in? Certainly not what other tell you, but then who are you, who else can tell you who you are when you are not certain for yourself? It's a terriffing thought that you can be so easily manipulated by this.   (I thought, maybe I just had a b