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This is a rather more depressing post on my part, and more of just thoughts I've had throughout the year, and a question out to you. If you'd rather not read a perhaps annoying post to read, then please move on. I don't like to post anything like this often, but this is just my thoughts out to you. About I want to say 3-4 years ago, I moved to the lovely state of Florida, knowing no one, having nothing to be excited about, left many of my friends I had known. And, although, even now I have made friends, lost friends, and lots of stuff. I still just consistently get that feeling of being alone. Feeling alone is normal, I suppose, and not a bad thing. Everyone needs someone, but I just feel consistently alone, even though I have friends, I still feel lonely. It's a feeling I'm used to, but it still just doesn't go away, I feel like my life is just a constant repetition of the same thing every day. Yet, I still find ways to be happy in front of people, whether it be actually happy, or just a mask, because there are people I know who count on me. Even though I feel lonely, I try to make the best of it, and leave a lasting impression on people, not on the sad, or the bad, but on happiness, and good. Is there a reason for me or even others being lonely? Yes, why? I don't know. I often question whether moving to Florida was good, or just bad, if we hadn't moved, I wouldn't have met one of the best friends I had ever had IRL. However, had we not, I would've not encountered many issues that still have a lingering effect in my mind to this day. And a reminder, for many wrongs. So, my question to you is, what do you do to switch things up when you get bored, or how do you make yourself happy when you are down...? Again, sorry for the tad bit of depressing in this post. But, I want to see how other people deal with the issue of feeling lonely sometimes. Out for now. -Crash

'Twas the mine before Christmas, when all through the base Not a creature was stirring, not even dear Ace; The stockings were hung by the teleporter with care, In hopes that St. Chief soon would be there; The raiders were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sandwiches danced in their heads; And Le in his bow-tie, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long miner's nap, When out in the base there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter. Away to the comms panel I flew like a flash, Tore open the cameras and threw up a hatch. The light on the breast of the newly-mined Rock, Gave a look of hard work done ('Twas quite a shock), When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature ship and eight tiny mine-ers, With a little old pilot so lively and neat, I knew in a moment he must be St. Chief. More rapid than rockwhales his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Ben! now, Fush! now Xiron and Lair! On, Jamie! on, Will! on, Cirevam and Cyrem! To the top of the base! to the top of the wall! Now post away! post away! post away all!" As rocks that before the wild rock monster fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the teleporter the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of crystals , and St. Chief there too— And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the base The cursing and blinding of Cirevam's dear face. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the hatch St. Chief came with such sound. He was dressed all in teal, from his head to his foot, And his suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of crystals he had flung on his back, And he looked like a miner just opening his pack. His eyes—how they twinkled! his armour, how merry! His life support flashing, bright red like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up in a mock, And the beard on his chin was as grey as a rock; The stump of a ciggy he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his suit like a wreath; He had a broad beard and a robotic left arm That whirred when he laughed, prepared to do harm. He was thin and miserable, a right stroppy old elf, And I hid when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know that he wanted me dead; He swore to himself, then went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And flicking his finger up (the middle one too), And giving a yell, up the chimney he flew; He sprang to his ship, to his team swore a little, And away they all shot like the down of a thistle. But I heard him yell, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good mine!”