Static.

Sometimes I forget that the Internet can't talk back to me. I wish it could sometimes. Sometimes I just really want it to say something in its all knowing, all powerful voice. But then I remember that its the Internet, not some old next door neighbour who wants you round for cups of tea every so often.

I don't even know what the Internet would sound like. This blows my mind as much as trying to figure out whether the inside or outside of a sock is dirtiest.

*mindblown*

But yeah. I cant get rid of this feeling of disconnection. Maybe that's why I wish the Internet would talk to me. Just for someone to talk to. I spend a lot of time with the Internet, it should know me by now. All my quirks, all my faults, what topics I love to talk about, and what subjects should totally be avoided. Such as how much I love Monarch of the Glen, or how I despise discussing the talent of The Beatles.

Doesn't matter who I talk to these days, there's something in the way. A broken laptop, lack of signal, lack of time, lack of conversation, lack of hands, lack of interest, work, uni, college. Too much. All inevitable as well so maybe that's why I'm moaning on here rather than facebook. Not as well read.

Psht. Facebook. Begining to dislike that too now.

Maybe I should do a Tom Hanks and get me a handprinted ball to talk to. Or an invisible friend. Or a tiny man who lives on my thumb called Mr Thimble. Those seem pretty cool.

I think writing this blog is saving me from going that mad. Just yet anyway.

I'm just utterly miserable instead.

_