Intimacy

I am told I have sort of a fear of intimacy… defenses in place to hold back vulnerability. Part of me thinks that’s probably true. On the other hand, I’m told that over the past six or so months, I’ve made great strides in my open-ness and comfort level. That’s probably good but a little scary. So, in an odd sort of step, I actually posted an email address for myself. It’s a hotmail box of course, anonymous, but it seems like a bigger step than just accepting notes. In the net you can sort of be a shadow person and you can try out things that you wouldn’t dare in real life because you might have to face that person again. Not that an email address is any big deal, but it does make one more vulnerable to others. I don’t know, I’m getting confused about this whole thing even as I type. I might as well not foist this train of thought off on you.

I don’t know if we’re allowed to mention other diarists in our entries, but I’ve seen it done so I’ll do it too. I’ve been reading Fancy and Oblio for some time. I feel intimately involved in their lives. Now that Oblio has deleted his diary, I actually feel cheated… like someone just put paper up over the window I’ve been peeking in. I’d really be going cold turkey if Fancy had stopped writing too. And, here’s what’s really weird… my first reaction was that it was like my right to know what’s going on in their minds and lives. I felt Oblio was being unfair by cutting off his “audience.” I’m so used to reading her perspective and his perspective and it’s so enlightening. And, I’m not proud of it, but I realize that I was sort of judging each of them in the relationship… you know like, he shouldn’t have said that, she should have done this. I think this experience is a little like what might happen if your soul roams the earth and looks in at people. The whole thing was so real and three dimensional because it was both of them and not just one. And, in a way, I think reading their thoughts formed a certain intimacy in a relationship where I don’t really belong. It’s so weird. But I continue to read Fancy and miss Oblio… no, it’s not life shattering, but digs at the edges of my conscious when I’m in OD.