be honest

Everything that I’ve written lately is crap. I suppose I knew that even as I wrote it… even as I thought about all of those petty things… all of those emotions and mental breakdowns… all of that confusion. But it’s just sinking in now. Do you remember how I wrote about seeing the movie Finding Forrester and telling all ODers to see it? Well we’re watching it right as I type. I miss wanting to write… I miss wanting to write like that. God I miss being free with my thoughts… and not just any over-emotional irrational thoughts… good, deep, lengthy thoughts about anything. Anything besides my day or my friends or the male species.

What ends up happening, is I just sit here waiting for things to come to me to talk about, realizing I haven’t read anything good enough to comment about or really experienced anything deep enough to write about. Which of course is ridiculous, because what is deep enough? I suppose it means I really want to have some incredibly insightful entry and nothing else will satisfy me right now.

Allow me to pose a question to myself: Why won’t I let you read everything? Perhaps I’m too much stuck in the real world mentality to break lose in the cyber world. Perhaps there’s too much reality in this world to differentiate. It’s strange how I randomly hand my entries out to different friends. Even people that know nothing about this diary, nor have ever read anything of mine. I’ll hand Meg my entries that I wouldn’t let anyone read. I’ll hand Nolan the entries referring to my mental state or my life. I’ll hand one person in particular my entries that I wouldn’t post. Strange how those entries involved that person? To let a person read my innermost thoughts surrounding him/her is a concept I don’t fully understand myself.

I used to write everything here. I just typed and my life flowed from my mind to the screen. Almost within an instant my life was posted to the world… and I loved that feeling. I believed fully in the concept that this was my soul in tangible form… I was giving people access to view my soul. It’s still somewhat true, except now this has become an abridged version of my soul. I want to write for myself now. I want to make that decision of who gets access to my thoughts, if anyone. I’m not sure whether that means writing and only posting a few entries, or perhaps it means I’ll still allow you to read everything… but be writing for myself.

People are private. More private than they want to believe. Even the most social people are private. Perhaps private to themselves. We ignore ourselves, our thoughts. We think we write what we’re thinking… we believe we’re honest with ourselves regarding our lives and thoughts and fears and wants. But we dont’ have the first clue what we’re thinking… where we’re going… I hold so many things back. For every totally honest entry that I despise, for every word written that I loathe for its truthfulness, I with-hold the degree of feeling behind the words, or state the thoughts in some way which is not quite… oh, say, as disrespectful or damaging to my reputation as simply printing my soul out on a printer would be.

Why is it so hard to be honest? I don’t mean being honest with others. Yourself. Why is it so hard to say “I don’t want to do that… I don’t care if they want me to… I don’t care if it would look good on my resume or college application… I’m not going to do it.” We’re too busy thinking we should and living for other people to be honest with ourselves. Why do you stress yourself out? Because I want to do too much… You want to? Yes… But I don’t think you actually want to.

So argue that it’s your personality to over-achieve and be involved. Argue that it’s your lot in life to do everything and then some… that you work well under stress. Fine… lie. After all, if no one lied… nothing would ever get done.

Then lie about what you’re feeling. Lie that you’re having that thought, but it’s only to a small degree. Lie that you understand your friends, or boyfriend, or despise people, or love people. Lie lie lie. No one will ever know… they can’t read your soul. Even when you think you’re admitting your sould to everyone… how do they know? How do you know you didn’t forget to admit that one small little thing that you were keeping at the back of your mind for safe-keeping?

Alright, so enough of the cynicism. It’s possible to be completely honest. But God it’s hard.

~swept away in words~

@~>~>-dreamergrrl

***~***~***~***^~^~^~dreamergrrl~^~^~^***~***~***~***