Боженька, сделай так, чтобы она со мной полетела, пожалуйста.
("увидеть Париж и умереть" - Ильи Эренбурга мысли дело)
P.S. Choose life. Chose no family. Choose no fucking real friends. Choose sleepless night and squander days in front of screen. Choose incomprehension of kinsfolk, weak health, spoiled one's eyes, back pains. Choose abuse team hysterics regarding deleted journals. Choose hidden comments and well-known nominees, who shrug off your being and your crappy scribble. Choose vain weekends, when nobody updates journals and nobody writes comments to you. Choose eternal and equally futile tries to write something interesting and to get more friends. Choose dry-rot to the end of it all in front of dead computer in a miserable house, knowing that in a fortnight none of your virtual friends will remember you.
Choose your future.
Choose LiveJournal.