Oh yes. Another diary. This time, other people can read it, but don't know who the hell I am. I've never done this sort before. I've done the little bound books with padlocks and keys, unassuming spiral notebooks
, WordPerfect files with and without passwords.
It never lasts. Maybe a month or two. Then I forget. I start spending the night at a new boyfriend's place too often, or I simply forget. Then I find it a few months later and cringe at how tragic I thought I was. I can't bear to believe that I really enjoyed having sex with the previous creep, and I toss it. Most of my journals that I haven't detstroyed already have the first thirty pages ripped out.
I guess I just don't have the artistic temperament, either to keep a journal over a prolonged period of time, or to stomach the melodramatic tripe horny teenage girls write. But I do know how words fit together, so I am determined to learn how to write.