Although I promised Lisa that I would be asleep by 4am every night, I’m not the best at keeping that particular pledge. I have a moderate case of the thinks-too-muches.

Every day, I log onto Xanga, and read. My eyes scan each and every new entry on my subscriptions list, searching for something to comment on. The passages I pick are not necessarily the most controversial or the best-written, but I try to leave thoughtful comments when they can help, and unthoughtful ones if they fit better.

I see Danh wrote a special message to his beloved, Quyen, again. It seems like he gives good thought into his entries, so much so that I can withhold a comment about the grammatical errors that I can’t help but notice.

Hugo’s entry is depressing again. If I didn’t try to be so positive all of the time, I fear just his words would sour me. Despite any personal disapproval and annoyance I feel about his actions, I can’t help but feel some pity. It’s not like he wants it, but he makes me want to weep inside. He’s like a butterfly mounted in some glass display. I’ll leave you to guess at what I mean.

I see BLT has an itinerary up, and I wonder why the hell people call her BLT, because I will never bother asking; I don’t care enough to. What I do hope for is that there is someone out there that really does care about her day enough that he’ll pay attention to the entry, read each line carefully, and show her he cares somehow. Would she even care if he cared Isn’t that why we write on Xanga Because we hope someone cares

Bien’s failed to get a job I assume. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter and that everything will be alright if he just gives enough effort in life, because he is a smart and capable man. I can’t tell him this, because I can’t really know if everything will be alright, and I want to yell at the people who think they do know. How do you know How How can you know something like that when I’m not even sure if I’m going to be around by the time I wake up

Kitty has realized a dream, and I decide I have to comment on her entry. “Dreams are so beautiful…” I type, thinking of my own fantasies. I glimpse intangible goals yet realized like a camera’s flash, and hope they won’t be as fleeting. I want to smile at her and shake her hand, maybe even give her a hug if it’s okay with her, Lisa, and Jimmy. But I hardly even know her.

Chris has an advertisement for the ASA picnic up. I wonder how many people will go, and if he is still confident as president. The organization was grand once and I fear all that’s left are ruins. Like column stumps in Greece only hint at the great temples that once stood, so do I see ASA today.

And then I think of Na, because when I think of ASA and it’s current state, I have to think of her. I think of her and I wonder if it all could’ve been different. I wonder if I could’ve ever handled that much responsibilty, taking the brunt of responsibility. I decide quickly that I would almost rather have seen failure than experience that kind of pressure. She says Philly sucks, and I wonder why people who truly believe that stay here.

I didn’t read Heather’s entry because I thought it would be about the sorority. And upon skimming it during the writing of this paragraph, I see that indeed, there is an advertisement for a party. I wonder if she will be there with her boyfriend who I’m not even sure she’s still with. She’s also turning twenty. Even though it was but a year ago, I long to be twenty again. I suffer from Peter Pan syndrome.

I see Mo is reading “Memoirs of a Geisha.” I realize that I should underline the name of the book, but I don’t want to edit the html. I wonder how challenging of a read the book is, and whether she looks up words that she doesn’t know. It’s what I do the majority of the time, when I don’t know a word, and I wonder if most other people do that. My father does it avidly, one of the reasons his vocabulary rivals mine, and probably trumps the average American’s.

Alex has this beautiful picture of a field somewhere. It looks like it’s somewhere in the midwest, but I definitely could be wrong. I’ve never been in the midwest, and I never plan on going. I don’t really care about travelling that much. Isn’t there a lifetime’s worth to see right here I feel like asking him if he’s going somewhere, but I probably won’t.

I love that Jenny had to pull a half-nighter, as I am no stranger to them. It makes me feel good that another being is giving some honest effort in school, as I always try to do. It almost reaffirms a failing sense of determination in my peers.

I wonder why Cheang is always writing about being heartbroken and just who is the mystery guy. I silently hope that Yang and Yan, who speak to her far more often, are guiding her through any hard times she’s having. I have found that I am not the best lighthouse, as I have a rocky, unyielding soul.

I see Frank’s gf, who’s name escapes me, chilled at home. She must’ve had the air conditioning way up… ‘Shouldn’t they be married by now ‘ I think to myself, ‘And will I get an invite ‘

Robyn’s going to Florida, yet I don’t leave her a single comment. Is she the type that checks Xanga every day, hoping that someone cares Isn’t that why we write on Xanga

All of these questions I have will never be asked. They will be appended to the list of questions that I have about everything and everyone. When I see these people, I will not consider inquiring deeply into their plans or relationships. I will see them, and most of them, I won’t even talk to. Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not because I’m shy or easily embarassed. It’s because when I get out into that big world, those questions seem to fade like whisps of smoke. I trust that everyone will be able to put out his own fire, and that if he needs assitance, he’ll sound they alarm.

I even do this with my closest of friends. I feel like there was a time when we used to talk a lot, but that might have just been me talking and other people listening, which is not truly a conversation. I wonder how much I truly care about them and if I really care about anyone at all.

I won’t pretend I don’t care about what you think by disabling eProps, because isn’t that why we write Because we hope someone cares

Even though Lisa would be angry at me even suggesting the possiblity, I’m going to go for it. If I die before I wake up, I want to say it was a pleasure knowing you all. From the people I hardly know, to the people I don’t seem to care about, to those closest to my heart, you helped to make life so very beautiful. And if I’m still here when I wake up, well, you’ll still get the same old entries that you may or may not care about, and may not even bother to read, and I’ll still read those same old entries that I may or may not care about, and everything will be as it is everyday, and how it always will be.