Outside my cell, deputies creep. But in this cell, all I do is sleep.

I never know how to make the time pass anymore. Writing moves it along I guess, but it's a solitary activity and I live in a social household. Games and conversations and the great outdoors are good stuff as well, but nothing new or stimulating.

I think that is the big issue - a lack of stimulation. There is no way to say it without sounding like a whiney hipster, but things seem a little "passé". I hungry like Tantalus, but for something new and exciting, to the point where I would rather drown in the water than have my sip taken away yet again.

Boredom and ennui raise all sorts of uncomfortable questions about free will, predestination, and the point of life. Boredom makes me think.

Here is something that I don't think you know about addicts, dear Lindsay, and maybe it will make some things clear to you about other aspects of your life: Thinking is the greatest enemy to us. Thinking raises questions, and makes you unhappy in the long run. It is better to blank your mind, and simplify yourself, than it is to really ponder as to why you are who you are and where you are.

Especially when you already know the answers to most of whatever questions you can come up with. I cannot claim to know you or anyone else that well, but some things are predictable and easy, and when you know yourself well, everything becomes unexciting.

True addiction sets in when the normal dose does not stop the thinking. For me, at least, this is sad and disappointing but not really harmful, as I am capable of a high level of function. While I may not be able to have "just one" of nearly anything anymore, I am good at not having even one when really required.

Sometimes I wonder if I am gifted or damaged. I may be mental, or I may be brilliant. I may be both. I guess it is pretty irrelevant as different is different, and while it has both faults and appeals, it what it is.

As Herr Rocco would say "Oh well!". Herr Rocco is my old german friend, and he is a master of "oh well" zen. He does not look ahead, and does not look back. I think there are a few reasons for that. His upbringing in East Germany, his general good spirits, and the fact that at the end of the day, Herr Rocco is a 40 year old kid. There is wonder and dreams for him everywhere. He is a lucky fool, really. I love him for it.

I've been talking to Eris a lot lately. It's funny how something that started as a joke can grow to influence so many lives. Man did create God, it would seem, or it would seem plausible. I have no objection to wearing the mark of a Deity that I know can't actually be real. But I talk and she listens, and sometimes in my dreams, she answers my questions, and though it seems crazy, I get what I ask for from her, as long as I make nice with the other kids and am patient. I am unsure how to put my thoughts on this into words, but suffice it to say, I am a firm believer that even a man-made Goddess can hold sway over your life when you truly believe.

Logan wants to go shoot things, and I have drained most of my willpower in writing this. See you, maybe.