06/15/00 - 09:08 AM

Enough!

Enough depressing shit. I could drown myself in my own self-pity. It disgusts me. I am too old to play games with myself and my heart. I want this boy that I used to have, and when I am ready, I will go and get him.

End of fucking story.

I've been looking through the community of Diaryland. And I admire it. I admire it as a force to be reckoned with. As a venue that bonds a certain type of people together. People who want to share their lives. To let others peer into their personal issues and think: �Wow, I have been there, I have done that. I thought I was alone.�

This community of writers has definitely shown me that I am not alone. How many journals exist in this forum that contain morbid letters of unrequited love? How many sorrowful entries have I read about lost love? Too many to count. But I love the anonymity of this place. The ease of which words can flow from me here in my iniquitous den. And to know that I am surrounded by others like me, and not just some, but thousands, comforts my core.

Here in this nation we have humor, sex, love, wisdom, and most of all honesty. All written by real people, sometimes it�s real people pretending to be other people. But real people nonetheless. So many people out there. So many that I feel small and inadequate in my experiences. Thousands of writers found here, all with one common theme: life.

Life. Such a simplistic theme to confront. Life encompasses everything. Nothing written here can escape that one tie that binds. And here with my overeager fingertips I write out about my life. Knowing that those who read it will see themselves in pieces of my past, knowing that others will form concerns about my future.

What a great place this is. Despite all of it�s elementary politics that have confronted us many times. I still love to exist here, to have a voice here, and know that I am heard.