So there's this girl. There's always a girl, but, there's this girl. She's the stage manager for the play I'm currently in and she is utterly beautiful. She is very nice and this is a problem because I can never tell if she is being particularly nice because she is interested in me or if that is how she treats everyone. That's the trick with girls in general since just because they are nice to you doesn't mean they want you on top of them. Also, she seems to be concerned about my happiness, but I don't know if she is treating me this way as a friend or because she wants to truly be there for me. All I want is to hold this girl and to be there for her and to hear about her life and care for her and kiss her neck. But, every time I send her a rambling four sentence text message, informed by feeling, all I get in response is a short, quippy six-word sentence. She seems to think I'm alright as a person, but her being attracted to me is another thing entirely. First of all, she is gorgeous so she could have anyone so why would she choose me? Second of all, I think it is wholly unlikely that I'm interesting enough to her to keep her focus. This upcoming Saturday we have rehearsal until around 11 o'clock p.m. and then don't have any rehearsal on Sunday. This is the first truly free day we've had in weeks, so I proposed that some of us get together after rehearsal on Saturday and go get drunk in someone's home. She was the first person I invited and she seems really excited, but it remains to be seen if I actually have anything to do with that excitement or if I'm merely adjacent to her happiness. What happens at this party on Saturday has my mind reeling. I hope I don't go home sad.
edit.
Essentially nothing happened that Saturday. She made it clear that she wanted to at least be friends. Everything changed last night. I went over to her place after our show because she thought I was mad at her and she wanted to clear the air. She thought I was mad at her because I told her I had something on my mind several days ago and I eventually said that it wasn't worth talking about anymore because of how she was acting the day before. The thing that was on my mind was how outrageously attracted to her I am. Anyway, I end up telling her, she is unbelievably taken aback, she sits in near silence for the longest time, which is driving me crazy and eventually she moves over to the couch that I'm sitting on. I can't help myself but flatter her again and again. It gets to the point where I'm just looking at her and smiling and she keeps asking me what is on my mind and the only thing on my mind is looking at her. I do it again, she asks me again, I say the only thing I can think about is kissing you. Two minutes later, we're making out on her couch. Ten minutes later she is laying on top of me. Twenty minutes later she is completely naked in her bed, making all kinds of beautiful noises and, suffice it to say, she was quite pleased. We spent the night with each other. I went home in the morning in the same clothes and smelling of her and now I have to perform in the show she is stage managing and act like everything is normal; like she means next to nothing to me and all I want to do is ravage her over a table in the dressing room. What happens now is up to chaos, really.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Brief Thoughts
Here's what's on my mind:
I have such deep-seated, emotional connections and feelings to several of the girls I know much to the point that I'm terrified of sleeping because every time I wake from a dream I feel utterly depressed that I've never truly been able to express and experience all the love I have to give because my dreams are becoming more vivid and beautiful and then I wake and I feel nothing more than the desire to hold a woman in my arms, realize that isn't reality and the feelings coalesce from my toes, up from my fingers and then try to escape through my eyes. This is when I should cry, but I don't remember how.
I've recently (over the past year) left so many parties and social situations without prior warning or explanation that I've developed a reputation for doing so and I have to warn people that it is possible and in fact likely to happen. Everyone is always having such a good time. I'd prefer not to impede on the happiness of those I care about.
Some times when I'm bored around people I will tell thorough lies to see if people will believe me. I'm really good at it because I do it habitually. I don't see myself as someone who fits in even with the people I'm friends with, so I lie; it makes me feel real, less disturbed, normal.
There is a girl who lives in Colorado that not many people know about. We agreed to not speak to each other again. She told me that she was in love with me, that she sees herself spending the rest of her life with me, that she knew I would be important to her from the moment we met, and she told me that we can't be friends because she is getting married and because she will always harbor feelings for me. Every time I think about Colorado I get very sad. And no one can see it because they can't see anything.
I have such deep-seated, emotional connections and feelings to several of the girls I know much to the point that I'm terrified of sleeping because every time I wake from a dream I feel utterly depressed that I've never truly been able to express and experience all the love I have to give because my dreams are becoming more vivid and beautiful and then I wake and I feel nothing more than the desire to hold a woman in my arms, realize that isn't reality and the feelings coalesce from my toes, up from my fingers and then try to escape through my eyes. This is when I should cry, but I don't remember how.
I've recently (over the past year) left so many parties and social situations without prior warning or explanation that I've developed a reputation for doing so and I have to warn people that it is possible and in fact likely to happen. Everyone is always having such a good time. I'd prefer not to impede on the happiness of those I care about.
Some times when I'm bored around people I will tell thorough lies to see if people will believe me. I'm really good at it because I do it habitually. I don't see myself as someone who fits in even with the people I'm friends with, so I lie; it makes me feel real, less disturbed, normal.
There is a girl who lives in Colorado that not many people know about. We agreed to not speak to each other again. She told me that she was in love with me, that she sees herself spending the rest of her life with me, that she knew I would be important to her from the moment we met, and she told me that we can't be friends because she is getting married and because she will always harbor feelings for me. Every time I think about Colorado I get very sad. And no one can see it because they can't see anything.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Quips & Rambles from a Semester at 1309
In no particular order, rhyme, nor reason, here are thoughts I've written down over the past couple months that don't necessarily deserve whole post treatments, but might be interesting to read, nonetheless.
I love that I can come home on a Saturday night to a silent, docile household. Unfortunately, this thing I love about my roommates is also the thing I hate most about them because I can't make my way home and bump some tunes at one o'clock in the morning without a passive aggressive text message suggesting I turn it down a tad, "please and thanks."
I love that I can come home on a Saturday night to a silent, docile household. Unfortunately, this thing I love about my roommates is also the thing I hate most about them because I can't make my way home and bump some tunes at one o'clock in the morning without a passive aggressive text message suggesting I turn it down a tad, "please and thanks."
The problem with being forthwith and straightforward about myself to some people, almost as an inevitability, when I'm in close proximity to them every day (this situation being be living with all these people, seeing them in the living room, etc), is that the recipients are inadvertently under the pretense that I'm not keeping any information from them. I'm watching an episode of House that is talking about this exact same pretense, so there is a distinct possibility that I'm projecting.
I've learned something very important recently. Well. Not so much learned as it was reaffirmed and strengthened as an idea in my mind/life philosophy. It is impossible for you to know anything until you understand what it is not. Nothing is perceivable unless presented in front of a negative background. Death is what makes life poignant, darkness as the absence of light, and so on within individuals: to know only what a person loves, thinks, does, feels is irrelevant without an understanding of the opposite. In the simple words of Alan Watts, "You can't know one without the other."
The facial hair I have is slowly increasing in thickness and amount, as it has been since I was 17, yet for some reason unknown to me there isn't a trace of hair on my butt-chin. I don't understand why. It is a biological bold, italic, underline on my face. Surely far more obvious to me than to anyone else, but strange nonetheless.
I really enjoy lying. I enjoy it because it comes naturally to me and is far too easy to get away with. If I'm presented with a situation where I can play things out to my advantage without deeply fucking someone else over, I'll probably lie for the sake of success on my own terms. I do this to strangers and academics most often and without almost any forethought.
I was asked if I consider myself an alcoholic three weeks ago. I don't understand conservative people who can't handle their alcohol. When I drink three times more than they do, it's because I've developed a tolerance and now anything under half a bottle is bush league. It was just strange because I've never been perceived as a drunkard; actually, it's pretty funny. And then three weeks past since I wrote the former portion of this paragraph and since, my drinking may have actually become a problem. I may have failed out of a major-required one-credit course. In my defense, it's for four hours on a Saturday. I mean. Come on.
As a residual effect of the past several years, I experience aural hallucinations almost every time I get stoned. Whenever there is some white noise in the background of my consciousness, be it the flowing wind from a fan, the constant of a running shower, music turned up beyond zero, etc I begin to hear voices of the people I imagine would be on the other side of whichever surrounding wall. Not once have I left the space to find other people actually there. The following may seem unfortunate to an unbiased third-party, but since I occasionally fear that later in life I will develop a psychological disorder, I have to fervently remind myself that, "It's just the drugs, man." I become alternatively concerned when I remember the possibility for hallucinogenic drugs to trigger, awaken, or perpetuate dormant psychological conditions. Alas, I don't know what I'm prone to, nor to what extent particular hallucinogens relieve or instigate these disorders, so, I'll operate under 'business as usual.'
I wish there were no set definitions for age or year or month or evening or anything temporal. Our entire lives are comprised of trying to figure everything out, rationalize ourselves and the actions of others, trying to put everything into an easily perceivable box. Why can we not simply be? What is this obsession for stark, crisp, straight lines? Why can't we just exist?
Nothing makes me more upset and jaded than the fact that after the end of this summer, not seeing my brothers for years at a time may become a very real possibility. Even now, I saw my oldest brother for the first time in almost four years this past summer and my second oldest brother I only see for twelve or so hours at a time every month or several months. Bonnaroo may be the last thing Shane and I do together for a couple years. Clicheclicheclicheetc but the idea of growing up and being the age I am now seemed so appealing when I was younger, yet, now I would give my whole life to return to those simpler times.
You can probably assume my love/hate relationship with hyperbolic sentences, but nevertheless I have a nice one for you: Absolutely nothing is funnier and simultaneously more devestating than being really excited for an event or situation and then just before it begins, ruin it by saying unnecessary things to people involved based on random, obviously irrelevant shit from ages ago including myself in an ultimate situation that will likely provide both physical and metaphorical isolation. Laughter and plot development for its own sake abound! Come, one and all! These are the personality repercussions from not getting laid in far too long. This has been a bumbling, out-of-context ramble brought to you in part by This Kid's in-shambles, eager, haphazard imagination. A lot of this may be unnecessary, but of course! How else would hyperbole behave?
1) If and whenever I have kids, here is what I plan to do: whenever he, she, they ask me why they can't do something potentially dangerous but I don't have a simple enough explanation to give them each would understand, I'll just tell them that they'll die. I'll desensitize them to the inevitability of death in their life, maybe get them to start appreciating life earlier and get them to not do dangerous things. Perhaps this isn't rational thinking, but three birds one stone mother fuckers.
I reckon it is more interesting to meet or be introduced to an actor/actress after you've seen them thoroughly committed to a performance, rather than vice versa. When you know someone first, you already have a semblance of an idea of how they're going to act, but if you see this person act first, then you have absolutely no idea what kind of person they really are. Especially when they play a real "character," rather than simple archetypal acting roles, e.g. the unfortunate, but lovable best friend, etc. That scenario for me is like watching House for several seasons and then finding out that Hugh Laurie has a very strong, prominent British accent. That didn't happen to me, but that's how I feel when I see actors/actresses act before meeting/knowing them.
2) If and whenever I have children, I want to have music playing in the background at all times. I realize that, to quote Palahniuk, "your parents, they give you your life, but then they try to give you their life," but I think music is extremely important. It stimulates so many parts of your brain! And as long as I don't just play the same Daft Punk album over and over again, these children of mine are bound to enjoy something that I play. Obviously I'm not going to be banging some simian mobile disco when they're in their infancy, but sometimes peaceful and ethereal and others exciting and exhilarating. Music that my family really enjoys, a lot of the time I have a soft spot for them from listening to them during my formative years. See: Dave Matthews Band. Santana. The Beatles. Van Morrison. Listening to a myriad of music is inspiring and the equivalent to having strange physical experiences because it enlivens so much of you. Because songs are static and thus that much more prone to enlivening nostalgic memories in you. Because music can become you, and you it. Because music will perfectly suit your mood, and conceitedly, I can associate endless amounts of songs I've heard with a moment in my life, from a room, to a state of mind, to a situation, it never fails to blow my mind. Music is emotion. All I can hope is my children can experience at the very least a semblance of these same feelings because it is so goddamn simple. Also, the moment you hear a song and then listen to it thirty times, is incredible, so if they experience that as well, I'll be at peace. You know, assuming a generally good bill of health
When I started this I didn't realize how many random paragraphs I was going to write down. I haven't even read through them yet, but when I do it should certainly be interesting. I think since my first post in this was written two weeks, or so, into my living in this house of disturbed, displaced and utterly confused individuals, I'll post it once I've moved out.
I'm the weirdest person I've ever known, and I don't mean that in a nice way, whatsoever. I'm socially awkward now to the point of complete delusion. I have no clue who I even am anymore. I'm in a constant state of regressing in on myself. It's just ridiculous, I'll go to stupid ends to avoid having a conversation with another person. I think the reason this has gotten so much worse is because I have no self-confidence or awareness of what girls think. I've never really been convinced that I'm attractive to some of the opposite sex and I haven't had sex in almost two years, so, you know, self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm too busy assuming girls have no interest in me to actually do anything to improve myself, or really care about doing almost anything, so I wallow, assuming my time came and went and may not appear again for several years. I need this living situation/school to be over with so that I can pretend my life isn't so silly for a while.
Allow me to supplement the previous paragraph. Something I seldom experience, but is really satisfying when it happens when I've been in a drunken stupor for a few hours, is I have what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity. In this moment I finally find a perfect opportunity to say something substantial and it feels like the circle of people who turn their heads in perfect union truly want to hear what I have to say. This may or may not be the case, but it feels that way in those moments. The supposed illusion? It's very nice.
A little over a month ago I auditioned for one of two student produced one-act plays being performed the weekend before finals. The past two days were that weekend and I realized something very strange during the rehearsal process and most importantly the concluding cast party last night. I'm at an age where I'm older than a lot of people in the theatre department. These people see me as an upperclassman and, as I found out last night, as a mentor. I've never felt like someone anyone would want to look up to and honestly most of these nice freshman should definitely not want to look up to me. I'm a blossoming jackass. But apparently as far as acting is concerned, I'm an important presence for these small, innocent people. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that every other person in the theatre department loves to talk and talk, but I try to pick my moments. Because of that most people don't really have any idea who I am except what they've learned through word of mouth. I'm really enjoying the persona I've fostered for myself at this school.
I moved out of the house two days ago. My last night there, Saturday, we had a raging party. There were so many people packed into the house that people were overflowing into the parking lot. But I don't mean that there were, like, twenty people outside, I mean there was about 100 people outside. What I'm getting at is at any given moment during this party there must have been 500 people there. An incredible way to leave that place? I'd say so, especially because it allowed me the opportunity to Irish Goodbye everyone I lived with. It has been a crazy semester and there are certainly paragraphs I could embellish on here and some things I probably shouldn't have even written, but I look forward to reading everything and I hope you..enjoy it?
The facial hair I have is slowly increasing in thickness and amount, as it has been since I was 17, yet for some reason unknown to me there isn't a trace of hair on my butt-chin. I don't understand why. It is a biological bold, italic, underline on my face. Surely far more obvious to me than to anyone else, but strange nonetheless.
I really enjoy lying. I enjoy it because it comes naturally to me and is far too easy to get away with. If I'm presented with a situation where I can play things out to my advantage without deeply fucking someone else over, I'll probably lie for the sake of success on my own terms. I do this to strangers and academics most often and without almost any forethought.
I was asked if I consider myself an alcoholic three weeks ago. I don't understand conservative people who can't handle their alcohol. When I drink three times more than they do, it's because I've developed a tolerance and now anything under half a bottle is bush league. It was just strange because I've never been perceived as a drunkard; actually, it's pretty funny. And then three weeks past since I wrote the former portion of this paragraph and since, my drinking may have actually become a problem. I may have failed out of a major-required one-credit course. In my defense, it's for four hours on a Saturday. I mean. Come on.
As a residual effect of the past several years, I experience aural hallucinations almost every time I get stoned. Whenever there is some white noise in the background of my consciousness, be it the flowing wind from a fan, the constant of a running shower, music turned up beyond zero, etc I begin to hear voices of the people I imagine would be on the other side of whichever surrounding wall. Not once have I left the space to find other people actually there. The following may seem unfortunate to an unbiased third-party, but since I occasionally fear that later in life I will develop a psychological disorder, I have to fervently remind myself that, "It's just the drugs, man." I become alternatively concerned when I remember the possibility for hallucinogenic drugs to trigger, awaken, or perpetuate dormant psychological conditions. Alas, I don't know what I'm prone to, nor to what extent particular hallucinogens relieve or instigate these disorders, so, I'll operate under 'business as usual.'
I wish there were no set definitions for age or year or month or evening or anything temporal. Our entire lives are comprised of trying to figure everything out, rationalize ourselves and the actions of others, trying to put everything into an easily perceivable box. Why can we not simply be? What is this obsession for stark, crisp, straight lines? Why can't we just exist?
Nothing makes me more upset and jaded than the fact that after the end of this summer, not seeing my brothers for years at a time may become a very real possibility. Even now, I saw my oldest brother for the first time in almost four years this past summer and my second oldest brother I only see for twelve or so hours at a time every month or several months. Bonnaroo may be the last thing Shane and I do together for a couple years. Clicheclicheclicheetc but the idea of growing up and being the age I am now seemed so appealing when I was younger, yet, now I would give my whole life to return to those simpler times.
You can probably assume my love/hate relationship with hyperbolic sentences, but nevertheless I have a nice one for you: Absolutely nothing is funnier and simultaneously more devestating than being really excited for an event or situation and then just before it begins, ruin it by saying unnecessary things to people involved based on random, obviously irrelevant shit from ages ago including myself in an ultimate situation that will likely provide both physical and metaphorical isolation. Laughter and plot development for its own sake abound! Come, one and all! These are the personality repercussions from not getting laid in far too long. This has been a bumbling, out-of-context ramble brought to you in part by This Kid's in-shambles, eager, haphazard imagination. A lot of this may be unnecessary, but of course! How else would hyperbole behave?
1) If and whenever I have kids, here is what I plan to do: whenever he, she, they ask me why they can't do something potentially dangerous but I don't have a simple enough explanation to give them each would understand, I'll just tell them that they'll die. I'll desensitize them to the inevitability of death in their life, maybe get them to start appreciating life earlier and get them to not do dangerous things. Perhaps this isn't rational thinking, but three birds one stone mother fuckers.
I reckon it is more interesting to meet or be introduced to an actor/actress after you've seen them thoroughly committed to a performance, rather than vice versa. When you know someone first, you already have a semblance of an idea of how they're going to act, but if you see this person act first, then you have absolutely no idea what kind of person they really are. Especially when they play a real "character," rather than simple archetypal acting roles, e.g. the unfortunate, but lovable best friend, etc. That scenario for me is like watching House for several seasons and then finding out that Hugh Laurie has a very strong, prominent British accent. That didn't happen to me, but that's how I feel when I see actors/actresses act before meeting/knowing them.
2) If and whenever I have children, I want to have music playing in the background at all times. I realize that, to quote Palahniuk, "your parents, they give you your life, but then they try to give you their life," but I think music is extremely important. It stimulates so many parts of your brain! And as long as I don't just play the same Daft Punk album over and over again, these children of mine are bound to enjoy something that I play. Obviously I'm not going to be banging some simian mobile disco when they're in their infancy, but sometimes peaceful and ethereal and others exciting and exhilarating. Music that my family really enjoys, a lot of the time I have a soft spot for them from listening to them during my formative years. See: Dave Matthews Band. Santana. The Beatles. Van Morrison. Listening to a myriad of music is inspiring and the equivalent to having strange physical experiences because it enlivens so much of you. Because songs are static and thus that much more prone to enlivening nostalgic memories in you. Because music can become you, and you it. Because music will perfectly suit your mood, and conceitedly, I can associate endless amounts of songs I've heard with a moment in my life, from a room, to a state of mind, to a situation, it never fails to blow my mind. Music is emotion. All I can hope is my children can experience at the very least a semblance of these same feelings because it is so goddamn simple. Also, the moment you hear a song and then listen to it thirty times, is incredible, so if they experience that as well, I'll be at peace. You know, assuming a generally good bill of health
When I started this I didn't realize how many random paragraphs I was going to write down. I haven't even read through them yet, but when I do it should certainly be interesting. I think since my first post in this was written two weeks, or so, into my living in this house of disturbed, displaced and utterly confused individuals, I'll post it once I've moved out.
I'm the weirdest person I've ever known, and I don't mean that in a nice way, whatsoever. I'm socially awkward now to the point of complete delusion. I have no clue who I even am anymore. I'm in a constant state of regressing in on myself. It's just ridiculous, I'll go to stupid ends to avoid having a conversation with another person. I think the reason this has gotten so much worse is because I have no self-confidence or awareness of what girls think. I've never really been convinced that I'm attractive to some of the opposite sex and I haven't had sex in almost two years, so, you know, self-fulfilling prophecy. I'm too busy assuming girls have no interest in me to actually do anything to improve myself, or really care about doing almost anything, so I wallow, assuming my time came and went and may not appear again for several years. I need this living situation/school to be over with so that I can pretend my life isn't so silly for a while.
Allow me to supplement the previous paragraph. Something I seldom experience, but is really satisfying when it happens when I've been in a drunken stupor for a few hours, is I have what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity. In this moment I finally find a perfect opportunity to say something substantial and it feels like the circle of people who turn their heads in perfect union truly want to hear what I have to say. This may or may not be the case, but it feels that way in those moments. The supposed illusion? It's very nice.
A little over a month ago I auditioned for one of two student produced one-act plays being performed the weekend before finals. The past two days were that weekend and I realized something very strange during the rehearsal process and most importantly the concluding cast party last night. I'm at an age where I'm older than a lot of people in the theatre department. These people see me as an upperclassman and, as I found out last night, as a mentor. I've never felt like someone anyone would want to look up to and honestly most of these nice freshman should definitely not want to look up to me. I'm a blossoming jackass. But apparently as far as acting is concerned, I'm an important presence for these small, innocent people. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that every other person in the theatre department loves to talk and talk, but I try to pick my moments. Because of that most people don't really have any idea who I am except what they've learned through word of mouth. I'm really enjoying the persona I've fostered for myself at this school.
I moved out of the house two days ago. My last night there, Saturday, we had a raging party. There were so many people packed into the house that people were overflowing into the parking lot. But I don't mean that there were, like, twenty people outside, I mean there was about 100 people outside. What I'm getting at is at any given moment during this party there must have been 500 people there. An incredible way to leave that place? I'd say so, especially because it allowed me the opportunity to Irish Goodbye everyone I lived with. It has been a crazy semester and there are certainly paragraphs I could embellish on here and some things I probably shouldn't have even written, but I look forward to reading everything and I hope you..enjoy it?
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Confessionals of Smug, Self-Important Drivel
I'm experiencing something difficult. I couldn't pinpoint it until just recently and I'm comforted and alarmed at the same time. The people I called my friends in high school aren't my friends anymore. We don't want to talk about the same things and we aren't the same people we were back then. Sure, people, by their very nature, can't change, but we've deviated in particular directions which doesn't leave much for conversation and mutually desired activity. The reason I'm experiencing something difficult is because I've surpassed what I wrote about here a month or so ago: Not only do I not want to see most of these people, I want shitty things to happen to them. I want their melodrama and excess to smack them in the face. If you want to go along living your shitty little lives with your shitty expectations of others, with your shitty attitudes and shitty, non-sensical perceptions of your own lives, then shit, I'm happy to dismiss these "friendships." But as they say, you can't break up with your friends. They're your friends for a reason. I just wish I could be more honest with people. I wish I could tell my friends that they've changed for the worse, that they used to be people I wanted to associate myself with, that they would be so much happier if they changed the slightest, simplist thing about their lives. But it isn't my place to tell other people how to live their lives, so, if you want to continue to make silly decisions, don't expect me to be there for you. In fact, this is why I want shitty things to happen to several of you. I want you to realize you're an idiot, so that I can remind you of that. Fuck man. I used to be so compassionate, but I no longer feel like my compassion is desired or cared about. I'm significantly less concerned about the happiness of others, much to the point that if they were arrested, getting married, pregnant, etc, I'm just going to sit back and laugh. I honestly wish more people read this so that more conversations could happen. So, if by some stretch of luck, one person or more reads this, here are my words for you: Take a step back from your life, look at the choices you're making and figure out if they are right for YOU, not the people you know. Center yourself mentally. Mellow your brain out and stop wallowing in your own shit. No one will ever care about your problems as much as you will, and that is just a fact of life. You can't help people who can't or won't help themselves, so seriously you guys, help yourselves. Otherwise, I really don't want to be your friend. One can only listen to people talk about themselves for so long. Trust me, I've rambled on and on and on to enough people and been blatantly ignored by even more to know that eventually, if you don't show interest in the other party, that isn't friendship: That's sitting in a confessional of smug, self-importance. Being a mediator between peace, forgiveness, verbal enlightenment, and the universe isn't a role I like taking on, nor should it be forced upon me, especially when the friendship is implied rather than largely accepted as fact. End.
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