So a friend sent me an email today that included a diary entry that he wrote years ago. I can't tell you how much that meant to me.
I have been shying away from public writing lately, as I am sick of baring my soul for the world; exposing my dirty underwear for cross-examination on a microscopic level and receiving absolutely no reciprocation whatsoever. I mean everyone has access to every intimate detail of my life with the click of a mouse. But I don’t get squat from them about theirs. Granted, I chose this humiliation and they didn't so fair is fair, but after a while it gets old.
I am sick of making a fool of myself for the entertainment of others. In ursaminor2 whenever I stopped writing for a while, I would get a "why you no update" letter from someone. Well gees, didn't know my slitting my wrists over here was so entertaining. So I moved of course, and left no forwarding address for most of the folks.
And now I DO feel a lot less pressure. But I am still writing, and still abusing myself publicly and what the fuck is up with that anyway, because I know you, oh cosmic-diaryland, must be asking yourself why the heck she spills her blood publicly if not for the entertainment of others......
Good question indeed. I am still wondering that myself.