(no subject)
A letter to Livejournal:
Hello, Livejournal
Yes, it's been awhile. I treat you like a girlfriend that when I finally post you will puff and sneer and point out my faults. I want to leave you as a relic, but in the same breath, admit that I haven't grown as much as I'd like. Far gone are the days that I can lament about how my post-adolescent life hasn't brought me the things I want. I'm now an adult and still dealing with the inadequacies that plague a man of my age and upbringing. In fact, I haven't changed as much as I thought time would inevitably make me. In fact, sometimes I feel like the 19 year old that relied on you before. Age may have brought eliquance, and this brilliant articulation that I only developed by nurturing a calous that I wear like a fucking Johnny Tremaine badge of courage.
But still, I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad you still connect me to people I love. There's a decent chance this is my last post. You'd be amazed at the pressure that comes from writing the last chapter in a significant portion of your life. But I'm comfortable to let those pieces die. It's not really a death, but rather a tree that you prune the dead branches and leaves from. All of the things cut off are done so to provide nutrients to the limbs that still thrive.
I will only say "until next time". Which while hopeful, is the same hope we hold every time we part with someone dear to us. No need to be transcendent here, it is only LJ.
Hello, Livejournal
Yes, it's been awhile. I treat you like a girlfriend that when I finally post you will puff and sneer and point out my faults. I want to leave you as a relic, but in the same breath, admit that I haven't grown as much as I'd like. Far gone are the days that I can lament about how my post-adolescent life hasn't brought me the things I want. I'm now an adult and still dealing with the inadequacies that plague a man of my age and upbringing. In fact, I haven't changed as much as I thought time would inevitably make me. In fact, sometimes I feel like the 19 year old that relied on you before. Age may have brought eliquance, and this brilliant articulation that I only developed by nurturing a calous that I wear like a fucking Johnny Tremaine badge of courage.
But still, I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad you still connect me to people I love. There's a decent chance this is my last post. You'd be amazed at the pressure that comes from writing the last chapter in a significant portion of your life. But I'm comfortable to let those pieces die. It's not really a death, but rather a tree that you prune the dead branches and leaves from. All of the things cut off are done so to provide nutrients to the limbs that still thrive.
I will only say "until next time". Which while hopeful, is the same hope we hold every time we part with someone dear to us. No need to be transcendent here, it is only LJ.