day 4

Listening to: the snow falling

dedcember. the last chapter of 2020. an ending leading to a new beginning.

875 posts here. spanning over a decade or more. through college. through crushes. through my mothers cancer and inevitable death.

a lifetime.

i wonder how i can possibly save all of this from disappearing one day. every time i leave for awhile. i end up always coming back to read. to see who i used to be. and how i used to feel.

most of those feelings are dark. a shadow cast over my heart.


i am so different and not so different. lost somewhere between being a mother, adult, and woman. grown now but still not so grown. not on the inside. the deep down. the thing that keeps me me seems to still be intact, just lost under the muck of others expectations and assumptions.

ive often stated that i am not a good person. i know im not. i know that my heart carries within it a dark piece that never really goes away but instead plays along with the game. understands that not many if any would understand what really floats around in my mind in that space.

but isnt that what everyone says and believes that our thoughts our dark wants and dark wonders are really so unique and special and maybe it really isnt. not anymore. these days depression is sold over the counter and everyone seems to be buying.

you add in social media and there you have superstars of nothing. mundane trends and achievements that we are convinced are special. when in reality andy warhol was right in his prediction that EVERYONE would be famous for 15 minutes.

arent we all celebrities now in our own minds.

and what does this ramble even mean, i have no idea. i have so much pent up bitterness and resentment that i guess it needs to just dribble out like it used too. without an audience, but maybe a witness or two.

who am i to judge when i believe people actually care about my facebook posts. they dont. no one really cares what im doing. or thinking or feeling or wanting or dreaming. no one really wants to see you win. they want to enjoy your failure.

i deactivated my account this morning because it hit me like a bullet that no one cares. i am the only one who believes they do. now i sit waiting and wondering what to do with my time now that im trying to let go of social media. but doesnt this diary count as well. or is it different because no one absolutely cares here at all. im not even sure if or how many people actually come here anymore.

but. does it matter. does it really matter when it comes down to it. sometimes the joy is in the sending the thoughts out into the void where maybe decades or centuries from now some alien race might come across these ancient documents.

again i dont know. i think this year. this 2021. i will put more effort into actually being than i will into pretending to be.

and now time to move forward.

Read 2 comments
jules it is worth saving. i wonder how we can contact the creator and ask for permission to never be erased, not yet..not now when we're figuring out just who we are and will be.
[Anonymous (2603:6011:6221:)]
I wanted to let you know that you're not alone in coming back to this site after all these years. I, too, wonder what will happen when my 16-year-old thoughts are finally purged. Should we try to save it? Is it worth it? Any way, I hope you're doing OK. Or as OK as anyone in 2020 can be.