I Am A Classic 'star Trek' Fanatic.

I Was Horribly Bookish, To The Point Of Coming Right Out And Saying It, Which I Knew Was Not Socially Acceptable.

I Mean, Like Most Guys, You Carry Around This Girl In Your Head, Who Is Exactly Who You Want Her To Be. The Person You Think You Will Love The Most. And Every Girl You Are With Gets Measured Against This Girl In Your Head.

I Figured Being A Bed Salesman Was A Job Of Biblically Bad Paradox. I Mean, Here He Was, Forced To Stand For Eight Or Nine Hours A Day, And The Whole Time He’s Surrounded By Beds. And Not Only That, He’s Surrounded By Shoppers Who See The Beds And Can’t Help But Think, Man, I’d Love To Lie Down On That Bed For A Second. So Not Only Does He Have To Stop Himself From Lying Down, But He Has To Stop Everyone Else From Doing It, Too. I Knew If I Were Him, I Would Be Desperate For Human Company.

But I Know The Difference. Everyone Else Is A Ghost. I Exist Here Alone, Stranded By Choice. Deserted.

What's Better, I Wonder - To Be A Toy For The Humans, Or To Control Your Own Destiny , Even If The Only Way To Do So Is Suicide?