eeep.
On a random whim I did a random search to see if my journal would turn up, and it did. i guess l journal is a bit less anonymous than open d was. there i knew there was no chance that anyone would ever stumble upon my unfortunate scrawling, not counting that unfortunate incident where i told silvie about it and had to delete it.
and i doubt anyone i know is psycho enough to search for me, and the odds that someone i know would stumble upon it accidently are very slim, yet again with the cueing of horror. because despite all my random name changes it's very obvious who i'm talking about, and i would have to curl up into a small, square like object and die if any of them saw this. at least, some small, vain part of my brain points out, my last journal was well written and didn't spend all its time whining about romantic entanglements or my eternal sense of ennui. i liked my last journal. so far this one is a piece of crap. and i only write in it when im feeling angry or petty, or stupid in some other way, and it passes quickly, but stays here forever so i can look back a week later and recall with fondness how stupid i was being at the moment. and i see people's journals where they post all this personal info and their friends converse with them about it and am absolutely horrified because i like being incredibly private and non sharing, and reading this makes me sound like an obsessed freak. (the bad part being the obsessed, not the freak part.) an obsessed freak who WRITES BADLY. because even in my alarm, i need to worry about my writing style.
i stripped some stuff from my bio page and told spiders to leave me alone, but i'm pondering making even more use of the private button than i already am.
and i doubt anyone i know is psycho enough to search for me, and the odds that someone i know would stumble upon it accidently are very slim, yet again with the cueing of horror. because despite all my random name changes it's very obvious who i'm talking about, and i would have to curl up into a small, square like object and die if any of them saw this. at least, some small, vain part of my brain points out, my last journal was well written and didn't spend all its time whining about romantic entanglements or my eternal sense of ennui. i liked my last journal. so far this one is a piece of crap. and i only write in it when im feeling angry or petty, or stupid in some other way, and it passes quickly, but stays here forever so i can look back a week later and recall with fondness how stupid i was being at the moment. and i see people's journals where they post all this personal info and their friends converse with them about it and am absolutely horrified because i like being incredibly private and non sharing, and reading this makes me sound like an obsessed freak. (the bad part being the obsessed, not the freak part.) an obsessed freak who WRITES BADLY. because even in my alarm, i need to worry about my writing style.
i stripped some stuff from my bio page and told spiders to leave me alone, but i'm pondering making even more use of the private button than i already am.