query
does anyone remember when a journal was an empty book in which one imparted the most secret sense of self? to be hidden from all, especially mothers and boyfriends/girlfriends? if discovered and read, leading to two weeks of silence between one and the offender?
tell me why we must now share every moment of our lives with others? do you really want to know what goes inside my twisted melon? scoop out what few brain cells i still have? what feeds the "live journal"? the need for it? is the ego so fragile in this day and age that we require virtual support for our every action and/or decision in our personal lives?
just wondering/wandering, as per usual...
tell me why we must now share every moment of our lives with others? do you really want to know what goes inside my twisted melon? scoop out what few brain cells i still have? what feeds the "live journal"? the need for it? is the ego so fragile in this day and age that we require virtual support for our every action and/or decision in our personal lives?
just wondering/wandering, as per usual...