As with most people, writing is my way of venting, or clearing up the screwed up thoughts in my head, or just keeping track of the things in my life, whether comical, upsetting, or boring. I have journals upon journals of junk that I have written, the earliest being from when I was about 8 years old. Some people drink, some people scream, some people exercise...I write. It gets out my stress.

This measly little blog started one day when I had filled the last page of my last journal and needed a fresh notebook in which to write. But I didn't feel like running to the store to get one. Not to mention that Guy #3 had his own blog, so starting this site was my way of keeping up with him. I couldn't let him "one-up" me. (That's how Guy #3 and I are with each other...everything is a competition.) But regardless of the reasons behind the conception of this blog, and even though I knew that I was putting my thoughts on the internet, for the whole world to read, I never thought that anyone would be interested in what I had to say.

And then people started reading it.

Even though the majority of the people who read this site are people whom I have never met in real life, there are a handful of people whom I actually know, in person, and talk to regularly, who do read this silly little journal of mine. Why anyone would want to read what I have to say is beyond me, but nevertheless, this blog is being read.

Now, I know that this topic has come up countless times on other people's blogs - the issue of self-censoring. It has occurred to me that the more people, that I really know in real life, read this junk, the more I tend to watch what I say, so to speak. I have so many things going on right now that I want to vent about, but I don't, for fear that so & so, or that other person, or you-know-who might read it.

And what good is a journal, if you can't vent?

I can't write about work, which is where I spend the majority of my day, for fear of getting fired.

I can't write about that time that one weekend when I went to Austin and got myself in big big BIG trouble because...well...it was really bad and people shouldn't know about that one.

I can't talk about my friends, who actually read this site, and why I think that they are being bitches right now because then they'll become even more bitchy.

I can't talk about how some of my other friends scare me because of what they do for a living.

I can't talk about those 3 months, at the beginning of the year, when I thought that my life was about to end and the one person who should have been there to help me had abandoned me.

I can't talk about the death that occurred at the end of those 3 months and how I'm still sad about it.

I can't talk about how I really feel about you-know-who because I don't want to make myself vulnerable to any pain.

And as of last night, I've decided that I can no longer talk about people that I have dated IN THE PAST because then I'm bombarded with 20 million questions from a certain someone who claims that they don't care, but really I think that they do.

So what's the point of keeping a blog, if I can't write about ANYTHING that happens in my life? I guess it's something that I'm going to have to work out for myself. In the meantime, I'll be buying a new notebook and pen.