Why do we seek attention this way? So few people read this little blog of mine and it was created anonymously to limit the amount of people reading as well. Yet, I feel compelled to write on it and talk about things that probably shouldn’t be said out here. Somehow I am pandering to an imaginative audience and I dislike the way that makes me feel but, at the same time, I like the attention it garners. Not healthy. I have been changing my habits for over three years now.
I try to use filters. I try to think about how my writing could effect other people and, given that ex romantic relationship stalkery people in my life still seem so fascinated in what I am doing, I try to consider my words with regard to what I think they should or shouldn’t know. And, yes, I am using ‘they’ as a multiple pejorative, deliberately.
There is a ton of stuff going on right now and I want to write it all down and share some or all of it. But I either can’t (because it isn’t all about me), or I shouldn’t (because it would reflect very negatively on some individuals who are already fundamentally damaged).
I AM writing about it. Just privately. Keeping it to myself, like an old fashioned paper diary with a lock and a key. Except this is 2014 and the diary is the Internet and pretty much everybody seems to be able to get a spare key cut. Whatever. I’m making the effort to keep it private.
Still, as a summary, if you ever see pieces of writing referencing sisterly betrayal, LifeLine and 101 home torture methods for the assholes in your life, you’ll know that somebody lent somebody else the key:
Blood is apparently not thicker than water.
Strangers are good for grounding.
Common ground means 50/50 civil and active.
And I still want to blurt it all out there and tell all the nitty, gritty, down and disgusting details to an audience that isn’t there and, quite frankly, that is only invested so far as my life is a role model as an antonym for bad choices and therefore makes splendid reading.
I swear, though, at ninety years old, I am getting one of those life -box recorder thingies and reading out all of my private entries. I’ll bet that won’t get played at the memorial service!