Young Sherlock Holmes And Open Diary Lifeline

My Mood:   — In Love With This Movie!!!

Lol.  I love this movie.  I think I’m getting a crush on Nicholas Rowe again . . .  And I just checked on that movie website that Shannon showqed me and he’s almost forty!!!  He was born in 1966!  Wait a second . . .  So that means he was . . . 19 when he made this movie!  And the guy who played Watson was 15!  Geez . . .

I love this movie, though.  It’s so great, and it’s such a shame that so many people have never heard of it.

And wow, Nicholas Rowe is handsome . . .

Okay, enough about that.  I’d like to get serious for a moment.  I was thinking about a Seinfeld episode earlier today, or maybe yesterday.  It was one where Jerry’s comedy routine beforehand had to do with the phone life support system.  Where the only reason that people remain any sort of friends are because they leave messages on one another’s machines.  You know, you call this person, then because there’s a message that person feels obligated to call you back, etc.

And I can’t help wondering if this Open Diary is my lifeline of communication with some people.  I know some people on here in real life and I see next to none of those people in person.  I never hang out with them, never really IM them, or E-mail them.  Or they me.

I’m not trying to say that it’s anyone’s fault.  I know everyone has their own lives, their own jobs, their own colleges to go to, etc.  But I wonder how many people I know where my diary is a lifeline to their lives and vice versa.  There are so many things I wouldn’t know about other people if I hadn’t started reading their diaries.  I don’t regret knowing these things, or that these people have let me into their lives, but sometimes I wonder if I really have been let in or if I’m just someone who has stayed around and out of politeness I’m not gotten rid of.

I don’t know.  I don’t even know if I’m searching for answers in this.  But this is what I’m feeling.

I sometimes wonder why seemingly perfect strangers can talk to me about their problems, yet friends of mine don’t.  Has the sense of untrusty-ness really followed me all the way from middle school?  Or has the misplaced sense that my integrity and trust and all should be questioned just never recovered from everything with Dan?

I honestly wish I knew.  I wish someone would tell me.  Just be straight with me for once.  I wonder if people think I can’t take this stuff.  I wonder if people are right.  I mean, I do get over this stuff, but I can’t pretend it doesn’t take time, and more than a bit of ranting.

I wonder how much people truly understand about me.  I always feel, no matter who I’m with, that . . . if they were a straight line, or maybe a color, like orange, I would be the diagnal line, or the color blue.  Automatically clashing.  We may intercept at some point, but in the end, we always seperate.

I wonder when that end will be between me and so many people . . .