I haven’t been keeping up on my offline e-diary. It’s there, but I don’t know what to write in it. There is maybe too much. And so, this e-diary becomes the canonical one. Funny, that. I suppose that should interest me, since this is (in some broad sense) what I am writing my thesis on.
Sometimes when I talk to a friend on the telephone, I am struck by the degree to which my tendency to be in love with (as Corgan once said) my own sadness is really a selfish act. Everyone has their own sadnesses, and mine aren’t any more special or particular, on the whole, than anyone else’s. It is just because I am lost inside my own skin that I think that they are somehow more sad, more real, or that I am unable to escape them.
Once again, I must try to become a better person.
This has been the boring, “ethical” entry. Not titillating, but certainly sincere. Best wishes to all of you, my friends. Let me know what I can do to help. And if what you need is just a voice in the darkness to tell you that you are loved, let me know that as well. You all got my number. And you all are loved.