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i'm really attached to my journal.  i have no intention of…

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blow me dandelion
i'm really attached to my journal.  i have no intention of leaving it or deleting it.


i've been thinking....

What would i say, what would i write, if i thought NO ONE woud EVER read it?  If i weren't writing for an audience, so to speak, or venting semi-anonymously like i do here...

What kinds of things would i dare to (finally) write about....

Only 4 people, including me, know that this journal exists.  This journal only has one "friend."  Lately i've been thinking about removing that "friend" for various reasons.  Felt pretty "safe" here for a while, but then something happened recently that made me feel less "safe."  And "safe" is a big deal for me, yo.

So many things i want to write about.  Seriously.  i want to write about myspace and silly passive-aggressive "bulletins" and "memes" and the like.  "Let's find out who here really believes in God....really wants equal rights for gays..."  Slap a 75-cent foreign-made magnetic yellow ribbon on your gas-guzzling air-polluting SUV, send in some yucky lids from chemical-laden Yoplait so they'll donate a freakin dime to breast cancer research... dude you just spent more on the goddamned stamp.  Will your best friend, Jesus, be there to catch you when you fall from the pedestal you've put yourself on?  Hah, Buddy Christ.  Yeah.  You want to preach at me about hell and right and wrong and sin?  i've got a mirror for you.

i am so stressed out right now.  i feel like i'm in some kind of vortex and there's this pull, like a super magnet, and i know what is going to happen next and there is nothing i can do about it and i can't talk about it.  i can't articulate it, i can't put it into words.  But i KNOW.  There is dread in my soul.

When are YOU real?
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