mnemeion's journal

For the past few weeks, my computer was broken.That's why I couldn't continue writing my story. But before it was completely eaten by the bloody virus, I saved my files on my disk. And when the computer was fixed, the files were not infected, but they inaccessible. It was more than three hundred pages, and they were all wasted.
Man was I sad. All those pages,perfetly written to my likeness, stuck in a diskette and never to be read by anyone again.
After a few days of sulking, I got and started to rewrite the whole thing. Man, was I so happy. I was happy beause now I can smooth out the rough edges of my story, because some of it were quickly changed because of a sudden thought.
But now, as I'm writing it all over again, I begin to feel bored.All of those I'm writing down now is already written before, with just a few addition of words.I lost interest, like all of those were just crap, and noone is ever going to read them. But as I'm writing in this boring journalof mine, I suddenly felt like continuing my story. Man, it really feels good to write.

It's really hard to explain it, but I like being alone. When I say to my friends that I like being alone, and I like being sad, the reaction I'd get is laughter. It's really hard to talk to people beneath your understanding of things.
Nostalgia, that is the honey that makes me go into my room and stay there for a week. Is that a problem? Is there anything wrong with that? I don't reminisce my past, but the feeling of being nostalgic is what I really desire. When I'm sad, I feel that I badly need someone to talk to, or be with. Then I'd go lie down on our roof under the stars, then I'd feel happy again. Anyway, that's my first journal, so forgive my nonesense.