Friday, March 26

No one who knew me outside of the site read my old diary, so I could post whatever I wanted without being nervous about someone getting offended or wondering why I was talking about personal issues on an impersonal scale. I posted a lot of corrospondance; emails, letters, personal things I wrote for people (or that they wrote for me). I could do that because they wouldn't read it and go "why the fuck are you posting personal and intimate things about us?!"

Things are not the same with this blog. Sorry to those of you who expect much excitement. It's rather good stuff you are missing, too. I guess I just require persmission this time. That does make things a lot more boring, doesn't it? No scandelous details (or lies, whichever I'm in the mood for); no frantic depressive emails or "fuck you!" instant message conversations (not a big thing since I don't have much of those anymore since I got rid of certain people that were messing around with me); not even the occasional Ode to (or attack on) Whoever.

I go through stages of being intensely private and then, on the other hand, telling everyone everything in my life from the design on my boxers to how often I masturbate to bitchy things I wish I could say to some people. When I'm writing I let it all out, because that's how it's supposed to be; but it's much harder when someone you may or may not be writing about may or may not be reading. Censors are fun, no?

I wonder how much people censor themselves around me? How often is it that someone wishes they could tell me off or profess their love or just talk candidly but feel they are obligated not to? I know some of my friends are just trying to protect me; they are afraid of the things that will trigger me, they don't want to sound whiney and pathetic, etc, etc.

Speaking of whiney and pathetic: Why does everyone seem to think that I'm going to look down on their problems because mine were supposedly "worse"? No one's problems are any worse or better than anyone else's. It all depends on your perspective. Yes, there are times where I feel like I couldn't have been dealt a worse hand in the Game of Life. Sometimes I feel like I might as well kill myself now, because that would be an improvement. Yes, sometimes I want to kill that girl who's pouting about "having" to go to France instead of Aruba for a month-long beach vacation. But most of the time, if it is someone's perception that their problem is life-threatening and horrible, I really think it is. My examples will be physical: Since I was beaten pretty badly and pretty often as a child and adolescent, I tend to have a pretty high pain tolerance. It doesn't bother me that much. However, there are people who get really upset over a papercut. I truly believe their papercut pain could be just as bad--or even worse--than my leg-almost-cut-off-by-a-chainsaw pain. It just depends on each of our personal reactions and perceptions of the event(s). So, people (M), don't ever feel dumb about your problems, because they matter more to me than mine do and I will never think you are stupid or whiney or pathetic. Cross my heart.


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