under rug swept
Since my parents are moving, I started going through some of the boxes in my room at their house. I stumbled upon ALL of my old journals and sketchbooks in a big pile, thought about picking one up to read, decided that would just be too embarrassing, and closed the box quickly.
I thought for a while about whether I wanted to keep them or not. First I thought I should keep them at least for posterity. Or maybe if I died someone could read them. But that thought was scarier than anything else! But there are some people--at least the people I wrote the most about--that I think would be allowed to read them. BUT ONLY AFTER I AM DEAD! I don't want to have to look any of you in the face after your read about my pathetic, whiny, judgmental life.
I would say the internet seems to add a layer of humility to journaling (thin as it may be), but even my old LJ entries are ridiculous!
Sigh. Time for bed. The screen is getting blurry.
I thought for a while about whether I wanted to keep them or not. First I thought I should keep them at least for posterity. Or maybe if I died someone could read them. But that thought was scarier than anything else! But there are some people--at least the people I wrote the most about--that I think would be allowed to read them. BUT ONLY AFTER I AM DEAD! I don't want to have to look any of you in the face after your read about my pathetic, whiny, judgmental life.
I would say the internet seems to add a layer of humility to journaling (thin as it may be), but even my old LJ entries are ridiculous!
Sigh. Time for bed. The screen is getting blurry.