Dust

So much time...
I have had this blog since 2004... yet I deleted my posts from that past...and now I regret that.

I am surprised because I have had my current journal (you know, a paperback old-school blog) for the past 3 years. I have not written everyday in it, but I feel like it has documented a lot of what I think. The usefulness of it all is that I can read back and look at how have I changed (or not) by what I wrote (or what I didn't write). I love that journal...even though I have said several times that it must die sometime soon, I am scared to let go of it. I have decided to continue writing in it, until the pages run out... and then the next one will do its job.

I have had several journals in the past; most of them ended up being not filled up because I was too lazy to write a full account of what was happening with my days...and I hated that. So I think that is why I am attached to this one so much, because it's not rigid and it has provided me with an open framework in which to just write whatever... Reading back, I see gaps and I can identify what I didn't wrote in those months and know exactly why I didn't write it...and that's another point why it's so beloved-ah! my namesake-becuase i don't care if someone reads it sometime in the future and has all kinds of wrong ideas about me. They can say whatever, that I was a racist motherfucker, a homophobe, a woman hater, a xenophobe, a twisted sick neurotic bastard, but they won't get it. Because my journal doesn't have any limits, and whoever reads it won't have the full picture, they will just have what I chose to write...they will just get to know a part of me, and that it's fine with me...but they won't have the pictures that I have when I reminisce about those words, and oh those wonderful gaps...so it will be useless to anybody, but me.