Myspace is a terrible creation.

Aside from the obnoxious ads, the plethora of stupid people and the slow load times, it gives me access to a limited layer of "inside information" that is better left alone. I can't resist looking for it, though I really should avoid it all costs. I don't want to know! Sometimes, it's better to dream. Sometimes, it's nicer to wonder. Sometimes, it's much more pleasant to think of vague possibility.

Dashed! That infernal "Status: In a Relationship" stands in the way of every silly girlish fantasy I currently possess. So much for that daydream. Wait, is the profile up to date? Yes. Yes, it does seem to be.

And of course, I immediately to proceed to investigate "the other half," or attempt to. I shouldn't. But I do. If I find her, can I hate her? No. I never can, though I sometimes wish I could.

What is this? Is this jealousy? It's not the same envy I felt when my grades weren't the highest, or when others received accolades that I believed undeserved. My eyes are burning, there's something living at the edge of "me," something full of nothing. The daydreams never had much mass, this is true, and having applied logic to them made them weigh less still. Yet they remain so potent!