Walls of Text Incoming.

So how do we find out if we're on Earth 1 or 2? Does it even matter? I made a theory with some of my friends quite some time ago regarding the existence of another Earth. We proposed that there are 2 Earths and that everytime we deplete the current Earth we're living on, all those from a certain generation and younger migrate to the other Earth and those are the only people who know that we've migrated. Let's say it's our generation who moves to the other Earth, we the 90's kids who moved to other Earth can now choose our starting year. I personally propose that Year 1 be 1990 so that we can "relive" our 90's.

So what are the real implications of this theory. I don't actually remember because I've been rambling for a while now. Really, I've forgotten what I was supposed to talk about. All the sci-fi stuff and all that. Meh. Next topic I guess?

I wanna write something that I'll be remembered for. I wanna write a book someday. Someday soon maybe.

I don't really outline the things I start writing about on this blog so I just start to type whatever comes into my mind next. Oh I know let's talk about the state of my love affairs!

Well, there's really nothing to talk about. I keep saying I'm not looking for a relationship, so I guess that could be a reason why I'm not getting into any. Sorry, I meant why no one wants to be in a relationship with me. It makes me, unlikable maybe. Like it's a passive aura I exude.

But I don't really know, maybe no one likes me that way right now. And that's fine. But I keep on wondering, keep on making up stories in my head, about how I'll meet her. Even, stories that maybe perhaps I've already met her. You know, instead of like fanfic, realfic? Like fiction of the reality of things, nothing sci-fi or fantasy, just what if stories. Of course I can't share these stories because it involves people I know, and that'd be awkward, and because I can't properly describe and supposedly think like the characters I use in these stories.

What I'm saying is, I don't fall for the people I make up stories about, I fall for the way I portray them in my mind. Falling in love with the memory is not falling in love with the person, or something like that.

AND BESIDES, True Love is a choice. The act of choosing your love is the evidence of love. Why do you love her? I dunno. But I do. Because I chose her so I love her. It' goes around in a circle I guess.

Someday I'll realize my choice. Someday. For now I choose just playing around and living my life in pleasure and in pain.

Romance and lifelong commitments can wait.