People say I write cruel stories and I do agree. I write about the people who say things like this to me. I just write about people in common. People like you. I write frequently on my new novel but someone I know believes writing is a way to run from reality. I have to run from reality. Reality is vicious. But the book I am writing scares the hell out of me because I see who I really am. I am vicious too. I let the characters in my stories suffer. I feel sorry for them sometimes. I cry for them and next I let them suffer even more. Then I stop writing for awhile to find out any story is better than my daily life. My daily life is more vicious than anything else. I really don’t know where I am today. I am a problem to myself lately. I like to hang out at the internet. I have a secret lover in one of my stories. Some time ago I'd found out my whole life is a story because my secret lover said something like it in this story. This bugs me. Therefore I try to live in a virtual world. Everyone is a virtual beings to me and if you invite me to your Blog I am aware of the fact you think you believe you have a Blog but you don’t have a Blog at all. All you have are words and an internet connection. This morning I woke up and I thought ‘I think I don’t exist.’ I hope I think differently tomorrow.