I read a diary this morning that made me think a little. This doesn't happen very often. No offense to anyone reading this, but many diaries hosted here are little more than simple accounts of a day gone by. Some are more interesting than others though, I have to admit. Some of you have lives worth reading about, but reading about them rarely gets my mind ticking.

But today I read a few entries that made suddenly feel slightly voyeuristic. I usually think nothing of getting some little insights into the lives of people I will never meet, but today... today I felt as though I were reading something not really meant for my eyes. Something that was literally a private thought, not meant for me to know. Needless to say, however, I read more than one entry.

I'm not entirely sure what my point is here, if I even have one. I'm the first to admit that I post on here insights into my life that I wouldn't actually share with anyone aloud. This very fact alone has led to more than one confrontation with people that are actually a part of my life that take the time - for whatever reason - to read my bile fueled musings.

I've oft been accused also of writing in a non user friendly style. Using words that I wouldn't contemplate uttering in a normal conversation. My excuse for that is simply that the people I'm usually talking to don't share my love for the variety of the english language. I can't have a conversation in my writing style because, quite simply, many would find it difficult to follow.

I sincerely doubt, however, that I am the only person in my situation. How many of us write things that we could never speak? How many would type one thing into a diary, but say something else to the people they talk to on a day to day basis?

In a way, that's what I like about these diaries. They allow a freedom of expression otherwise suppressed by the simplicity of ordinary life.

Another appeal is the general impersonality these entries afford. Few people bother to read this diary regularly, and I don't mind that. Fewer still read this that know me personally. This allows me to write about whatever I wish without someone feeling the need to plant a condescending hand on my shoulder while whispering that everything will be ok. I don't need that. I don't need to live on a weak foundation of lies to get me from one day to the next.

I just need my own vision, the right outlets for my anger, and the time to consider the cause of my distresses. In that context, so much else is meaningless.

0 message(s) of denial

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