i took my cheap ass to wal-mart.. all hail consumerism.. and spent the 2 dollars on buying a binder and making a real to life hand held all out journal. with names and places and everything i couldn't say here. i mean.. after all that is the point in a diary right? online.. we just put who and what we want to be.. or how we want to be seen. and no matter how honest we can convince ourselves we are.. we are not because everything comes with editing. and the only thing we are true to ourselves for.. we write in code as to not be found out anyway.

i look at the online journals i find myself bookmarking. the kids i want to keep tabs on. the demise of friendships but the uncontrollable urge to still care.. just to see that things are alright. to be amused. to be informed. its all bullshit. if we simplify ourselves into words on screen we are fooling ourselves. no one is that simple. i know im not. and the ones of you ive been told read this.. i know none of you are either. it was probably a combination of the strong minds that ended what friendship.. or lack there of.. we had.

my intentions in this were clear from the beginning. it gave me something to do. something to look at. something to focus on. and then i just wanted so desperately to have a safe place. where i could lay it all out. be understood. afterall.. isn't that what we all truly want in life. someone to understand us.. or at least ... someone to want to understand us. there isn't a single thing on here i wouldn't rather sit down over coffee and loud music to discuss. hands on. something real. with a pulse. this is what humans are becoming. im more then HTML codes. i want to accomplish more then Internet space. ah ... fuck it. i hate long good-byes...