Windows

I had the revelation last night that I really only want strangers to read into the intimate parts of my life. Laying in bed for the first time truly cold and feeling more alone than I have for as long as I can remember and I knew that I really didn't want anyone to know. It's weird... this internet honesty. How I like to think that for once I can use a medium truly uncensored and let lose all the thoughts and feelings I sometimes can't bring myself to say audibly has become somewhat crippling here... b/c now I know who is really reading here... and it isn't strangers who stumble upon this by hitting "next blog" to take them to some mundane random peak into a binary existence. Those strangers who have no real connection to me or my story... but maybe read the first few sentences and are intrigued enough to finish it out. Who maybe can leave thinking or feeling that there is some familiarity among us all. That while this is all so personal and private perhaps someone can look at it and say... yeah it happens... instead of feeling betrayed: "can't believe she didn't tell me this."

But I know that you, and you, and maybe even you are waiting for this... which is exactly why it hasn't been updated in months. I feel like you're watching... waiting even, for me to slip up, so you can find some kind of inconsistency within me to hold against. Maybe it's just paranoia. The fact that I can almost imagine in movie quality you sitting at your computer, reading these words all typed out for the world, just some stream of consciousness, and your reaction. Your feelings. Your thoughts.

I guess i have lied to myself about my unabashed honesty, and my lack of attached emotions, now that I realize that your feelings take precedence among my creative outlet.
I feel trespassed upon.

Perhaps an old fashioned journal would treat me better.