i was reading over that article, from long ago, about
this, these, these words, this web whatever you might
call it, and reading it, i feel i have to respond.
if not respond, then affirm, or something. either
that or change the style of my writing. in the beginning
it was cryptic, noone was supposed to know just exactly
what i was talking about. these were my thoughts, and
if you were inside my head, if you took part in my day
in and day out life, you'd know the things that i refer to.
but things change, as they always do, and i name names,
or become particular, and people ask questions, people
get hurt, people turn away. it happens. i know that as
most people know that. and yet, i keep writing. for
what? why? momentum? enertia? therapy? is this good
for me? to write stuff down, that i wonder about, that's
on my mind, but encrypt it, confuse it, make it so that
even i don't recognize it after i'm through with it?
who knows. is this serious? are these thoughts, these
words that i write, is this serious? are these things
real? if i write about death, does that mean i'm suicidal?
when i write about love, about past loves, about future
loves, what does that mean? if i ask for something, will
i get it? this medium, well, the reader gets to decide.
is this, words written on a web page, accessible to anyone
with access to a web browser and an internet connection,
how true is this to me, how true am i to these words?
this is no diary. that is for myself. but what then,
is it?
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