"Of course it's dark. It's a suicide note"

Yesterday was my 47th entry. That's one of my favorite numbers. It's an odd number. It's also a prime number. See, this is why I write posts like yesterday's. When I resort to writing about the oddness and primeness of numbers you understand that new ideas of any kind are golden to me. Death is just such a awkwardly fun subject to tackle. When everyone just gets all silent and weirded-out by it it's funny to me. Don't know why. I suppose that's just another socially retarded facet to the un-wonder that is myself. Death is just a topic that can be subject to so much discussion. For instance, the "legacy left behind" stuff. That's interesting to me. Asking yourself right now, right at this moment not thinking 10 minutes into the future "If I was to drop dead right now, what would I be leaving behind". What have you done thus far that's some sort of legacy that can live in people's memories for as long as they do? And why is it bad that you die? What would not be good if you were gone? For instance, Sheffield, just to name a person. If Sheffield got into a car wreck and bled to death in the firey wreckage, that would not be a good thing. Who would direct one-act? Who would run Kingwood theatre? All these responsibilites left hanging in the air. No one would be happy that he's gone. It would not be a good thing. True story. "What is being lost?" That was the rhetorical question we've been recieving in the critiques. What would be lost if someone not quite as important as that died? Take me for instance. What if all of a sudden, Greg just went out and got hit by a bus crushed enough bones in his body to die. What would be the consequences of that? Well first of all, the bus driver would feel pretty bad. But that's granting the premise that the bus driver didn't know me. And then there'd be the awkwardness of the UIL stuff that I covered in the last entry. Then would come the faux-sympathies from the church. They'd call the Porter residence and give them the "Is there anything I can do" shtick that the family would be too emotional to see right through. And then all the assholes would come out of the woodwork and pretend they were better friends with me than they were just for the sympathies (which is annoying as hell. People do that with carwrecks too). My sister would use my death as a scapegoat for any problems she might already be having. And I bet all the change jangling in my pockets that those most saddened would be the ones that knew me the least. As for the leaving behind part, I'd be leaving behind a couple of things. The biggest remnant would be the candyass videos I made. That's about it really. I'm listening to a song by Ryan Adams called "Desire". It was used recently in an episode of The West Wing. (post-Sorkin crappy era of course. It was a montage in a hotel in which the camera focused on one of the characters and an ice cream bar. That's right. An ice cream bar) It reminds me of this philosophy that I barely articulated in one of the earlier entries. I have this theory that a desire for someone else's love is incredibly selfish. I conveyed it in a way that sounded like any kind of love was selfish. I'm saying the kind that says "I think you're amazing and I want you to think the same of me". That's incredibly selfish that another person is supposed to think a certain way just because you do them. It also reminds me of the golden rule of unrequited stuff. You cannot force yourself to think anymore or less of another person just because you want to. They are forever what your perception tells you they are and you can't will your perception into thinking any different.