Dear Diary,

You know, they say that there are two kinds of people in this world, but I say know that there are three: Those who know me, those who don’t know me, and those who know me but don’t know me.

Now, it’s this third group of people who are the most problematic, especially for (as you know) a misanthropist like myself.

You see, the people who know me also know the routine: Don’t bother me.

And those who don’t know me don’t talk to me, precisely because they don’t know me. (They’re the best kind of peop — I mean, the least bad kind of people.)

But this third group — the people who know me from some regularly occupied shared space (classroom, apartment elevator, gym locker room, strip club, etc.) but don’t (yet) know me as being regularly occupied with hating shared space — they neither know the routine nor can be ignored without awkwardness.

And if there is anything I hate more than people, it’s the awkwardness of their presence.

In an ideal world, there would indeed be only two kinds of people: Me — and dead people.

Since my plans to eliminate the rest of the human race are still hung up in testing, I will have to temporarily rely on alcohol to get me through awkward social situations like this party. Spirytus Rektyfikowany, 95% alcohol … Hmm, let’s see if this does the trick – Best Night of Life is a Blur.