People pick this diary apart, searching for signs of leverage in every line. There's nothing special about what I have to say. I hate being micro-managed. I hate feeling like the perfect balance between associate and friend has been breached. I hate feeling like I can't come here and speak freely without being asked 21 questions. I hate feeling like people have me figured out. I hate it when people know more than they should know, and use it against me in the most awkward conversation.
Diaryland, my friend. My most sacret chamber of secrets. I put too much on your shoulders for you to handle. And for that, I'm sorry. I don't blame you. I blame myself. For years, it has always been about me and my wants and needs and feelings and problems.
Why do I even bother writing on here anymore? This diary has lost the innocence that it once kept under wraps. Too much exposure and attention? Maybe.
For now, I'm going to write underground and resurface for guest appearances.
1:43 a.m. - 2010-03-11
Recent entries:
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Smile - 2018-03-20
Not all heroes wear capes - 2018-02-25
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