Calm down. I see from the quantity and increasing rage in your posts that you're approaching Elliot Rodger-point. I know how bitter you are. I understand that having your high-school crush swept away by a handsome, athletic and brilliant aerospace engineer must hurt. I'm less condoning of the stalking you did afterwards, and I really hoped that the restraining order would have hammered home that no, she doesn't want anything to do with you, she wasn't even a friend of yours, she never spoke to you and she never ackowledged your existence until you started really bothering her. The fact that you're now a registered sex offender doesn't help. Not even libraries let you in now since you went on a rage and ripped to pieces those SF books whose covers she drew (she's an amazingly talented artist, I wonder where she finds the time with three kids). So yes, I know why you go all purple-faced whenever "space" is mentioned. But it's high time you put some order in your life and by "order" I mean find something useful to do with the scarce means and no talent you're stuck with. I know, it's not much and with your record you won't even be able to go flip burgers. But, really, you should ask for help. Don't be a "perfect gentleman" and go on a failed spree. Don't be remembered for killing or wounding a couple of innocent bystanders while you vent your impotent rage. If you really have to do anything violent, do it to yourself and be done with it. You can still retain some honor and be remembered as the guy who offed himself out of depression, instead of the guy who tried to go on a rampage for having being caught jerking off in a woman's office. Consider your fate: unlike me and that aerospace engineer, you were never born to succeed so it's not entirely your fault.
