i haven’t meant to be so difficult to read lately. i sometimes forget that people read this journal for fun, and encountering unedited prose poetry may be unfun, even frustrating.
on the other hand, changing what or when i write isn’t going to happen.
a friend of mine, someone who translates excellently to text, once wrote about people reading her journal instead of calling or emailing her to catch up, to connect. i think i’m still as bad as i’ve ever been at replying to email in a timely fashion, and i have very little free time to talk on the phone, but i understand this sentiment. i feel like necessarily long-distance friendships are relegated to email, reading journal entries, and perhaps instant messages. it’s becoming more difficult for people who “read” me to understand me. i am not a bare-all journaler, nor do i want to be. that level of exposure reminds me of vivisection: peel back the layers of me while i am still beating, breathing and surging, and hope against hope that we don’t kill whatever beauty is in there as we pick it apart.
this isn’t only about justifying the way i live my life. that is, of course, an element to doing this online: part of me wants to be seen and understood because that means i am not doing this – living my life – without ever connecting with other people. no, it’s not all about that. some of this is about honestly wanting to write words that make people think about their own lives. maybe i try too hard to do that sometimes. i won’t ever fault myself for trying, even if you do.
i have had to scale back my initial plans to befriend every single human being i find interesting. there isn’t enough time to devote to all of you, although i know you’re there and i enjoy you simply for existing. arguably in a perfect world there would be enough time for everything, but then again, i wouldn’t appreciate how precious the choice moments with close friends are. this appreciation is central to my existence. i am an introvert trapped in an extrovert’s social circle, and although i don’t want that to change, it is on its own. people have lost interest and gone away, understandably; i have distanced myself from people i no longer have much in common with. it’s how we all work, isn’t it? or am i more of a social freak than i thought i was?
i won’t show you everything here. i won’t even show you most of it. i will show you things that i don’t even know i’m showing you, and you are always free to make your own assumptions about my life. the danger is in becoming disappointed that the me you see here is not like the me offline. the two have less in common than any of us expected.