A friend of mine gave me her blog a long time ago. She's probably forgotten that she gave it to me, or thought I didn't read it. I mean I can't blame her. It takes a lot of hard work being this egocentric and right all the time. Sometimes I don't have time for the small people.
It was different reading someone else's blog. I write my thoughts on here with the intentions that someone will (all two of you) read it. Despite what people say about my frank and not so reserved bluntness when it comes to divulging the details of my life, in all honesty, I do not feel that I really expose myself on this forum in a way that you could not gleam from a conversation with me over a nice frothy beer. I protect myself with humor and never write down anything that I can't laugh at or was willing to be ridiculed about.
My friend's blog is different. It is an intimate journal of her thoughts. I almost felt bashful while reading it; as if I was peering through a crack in a curtained windowsill and catching a glimpse of something that I was not intended to see. I was astonished and awed by the honesty and the heartfelt words written. Sometimes I think good writers become too clever with the words they string together and they sometimes forget the emotions expressed with simplicity. No thirty minutes soliloquy can eclipse the emotions displayed in an "I love you" or "I'm sorry" or "It's going to be okay" sometimes.
I don't really know why I'm bringing this up right now. Yesterday, I had a miserable day. Everything I felt seemed inhumanly compressed inside into a ball of frustration. I felt caged and shackled, like an animal gnashing his teeth at the bindings that kept him down.
I haven't updated in a while so this is my update. It sucks. I know.
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