02/07/01 - 01:06 AM

Too busy with living life to take the time to write it all down on virtual paper. Every time I glance at this diary I feel this overwhelming lack of desire to write here. Why is that?

Is it because any problems that I've had are either resolved or so far in the past that bringing them back to the surface of my mind would be more detrimental than just ignoring them?

I'm happy. I have a good boyfriend; I live a slow life.

I could write for miles and miles about Chess but who really wants to hear about how good someone else's love affair is? Besides the more I write the more I could jinx the whole thing and when you're as tired of fucking up as I am, well you start believing in the superstitions.

At one point I wanted to create something new here but I don't feel much of a connection anymore. Maybe this is too serious and I just want to dictate my life as nonchalant as possible. Tired of being deep, over-analytical, tired of trying to search my soul to find some hidden true self.

I really don't know anymore.

I do really love what I've written here, more than anything else I've ever written. (Don't mind me, I am just stroking my own ego again.)

But as more time passes I find myself more and more incapable of duplicating the type of story telling that this journal is used to. I am losing my touch. I am becoming more and more disconnected with this side of myself. It's almost sad. I only discovered her a few months ago and already I am losing touch.

Maybe Iniquity only comes out when I am lost in either my own stupid unrequited love type of situations. I don't know anymore.

It could become memoirs. Of how my life used to be. But how melancholy is too much? My life is not a complete waste.

But how can I express emotions vividly anymore when there seems to be only one overpowering me at all times. Love.

Who knows where I can possible go from here? Words from anyone would be appreciated.