Analyze what you Love, and you Love no more........

Unless yr a computer or a robot, details tend to overload a very fragile piece of mind.
Take, for instance, the love of a journal. As long as yr tricky and paranoid, you can give yrself the freedom to express every stupid, sketchy, politically incorrect, socially incorrect, friendshiply incorrect, fantasy, inclination, analyzation, private yearning to seduce a duckling, yr best friend would look at you in utter dismay, you could never be this cruel, i pretended it was someone else, liar, backstabber, unworthy of the little credit which is occasionally received, secret, yet beautifully romantic, tiny little thing.

No one to judge you, except for yourself.

But for what? What really is gained? The ability to read up on a life when yr either smarter or happier, or maybe when all has been run ragged and the yearning for a time when you once felt anything runs into the blood? I hate when people write like this. I hate when i read it, and i hate when i write it. But i've gotta do it.

Then I thought, why? why? why? Is it because you have noone to talk to, no one to trust....well, you know, really trust? I mean if i told someone how much I loved them, how great i thought they were or once were, how they've impacted my life in many happy ways, how i've learned, grown, and been entertained the whole way through? IF i were to express those sentiments, aren't I also obligated to consider the Yang* as well. I'm not that one-sided. Not with love and admiration, And certainly not with judgement and conviction. IT is for this sake of the existence of journals.
Journals are the stories about yrself and yr influences that nobody else has found interesting enough to write about. They are about the down time . They are the cuddly, wide eyed frog on yr bed.
Then there's the weBLOG, ronellsubrosa.blogspot.com, and the rest of the bullshit I belong to. I thought i wrote a big, boring essay (retardedly similar to this one) not too long ago. It's fucking retarded. Why write anything that needs to be masked? WHy suggest anything that comes with 1930's decoder ring? Why write anything at all?
Why?


Because I'm delusional. I like having something in the net of webs. I like to have something to do. I like to pretend. Like i've said before, I'm the Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Take heart to the title, it means what it says!

*disregard any hippy connotations