You know you’ve hit bottom when you’re spilling your guts on the side of interstate 80 at four o’clock in the morning. Dangerous, sure, but the alone time is nice as you’re reinventing histories in your head.

I feel as silly believing in things like social networks and governments as I do about God. They’re only there because we believe they are, but they’re not physical things we can kiss when they get home. I was only half-joking when I told my dad I hoped all the politicians get thrown in jail so prison conditions would improve, and that I hoped the men who robbed me blind would have nice happy lives someday. I always love the people who have hurt the most. I can’t relate to politicians as real people. I don’t care about my ex boyfriends, or designer hot pink heels, or about telling jokes so funny everyone wants to hang out with me. I’m an observer.

Last night three domestics in I was people-watching with my friend Luke. It was only eleven pm and there were already well drink infused people knocking tables over. I asked him to tell me stories about each one, their professions and the passions in their blood. The people I saw were computer programmers, teachers and new lovers on their third date. The people he saw were mall employees, World of Warcraft players and one adulterous man and his mistress. He asked why I am always so optimistic about people, I told him I don’t know.

I think about the useless information floating like clouds in my head: Pi to the tenth-decimal, how to construct a fragile lie and remember every detail, how to strip your feelings at a moment’s notice. I wasn’t always such a cynic, but I tattooed a prime number on my left arm so now I’m this way forever. I really should send every half-written email I started, and sometime soon I will. I have a pool of love prospects but like a guy I probably shouldn’t because we work together and he says things like “I like you” and isn’t too embarrassed to call me beautiful. I shouldn’t have admitted that, but there it is.

My problem is that I see endings before beginnings have a chance. It always has and continues to destroy me.