When I end my written journal I might end this blog... and all there is that has to do with me putting myself into this virtual world. The only reason I ever did that was all the same reason why everybody else is able to open up more online than in person. I remember how this was almost the most important thing in my life. Maybe it still is but by now there's a better reason for me to spend time on the internet. Previously it was just where I used to be fascinated by the fact that I was wasting time, neglecting sleep, putting away responsibilities and being able to get rid of stress. Stress came back anyway when it was time to face the world again. But in that moment when I spent days at a time thinking that my 'soul was on the other side', I was happy. But just for awhile.
I can use the internet for better reasons this time around. At least I'd still stick with the friends I made. If you feel like these words 'surround' you (and not just happen to pop a question in your head) then you know who you are.
How I used to talked to everybody on IM became only a selected few. 2 at a time. 4 the most. Other times none at all. How being a part of online communities used to be fun became the last thing I want to spend my time on. Well... I guess that's what you call 'growing out of it'. And I'm growing out of alot of things. And then... still plenty of growing up to do.
I'd still need to always be in touch with someone. (Yes you teddy, you mean alot to me.) And.. basically just to forget about being virtual and focus on being real. I choose (to have a) life. Then people can start to take me seriously. But now... now it's kinda not a good time. I still have a whole mess of myself to sort out. Especially: cutting out the bad habits. They certainly die hard. One minute I think that I'm okay, then 5 minutes later I find myself repeating the same mistakes again. Not good, you see. So I just have to make up my mind: screw up or buck up.
I can say that I'm... happy. Right now. He and I, we made it through a year of getting to know each other from a distance. So how much do I know? I suppose enough to keep going. I needed that period, I just didn't know it was what I needed until I've gone through it. And it woke me up somehow. It was my last chance for that sort of realization.
So I look forward to what's going to happen next. Perhaps I will write about them, perhaps I won't. I wrote too much because I couldn't trust anybody to share my thoughts and concerns with. 8 years of writing now, maybe more. But I have the last few pages in journal to fill, and when I'm done, I'm done. I was still so much of a child inside.. maybe I still am.. but I've written down all those years to myself and.. I guess I won't be writing to nobody anymore. I give this up.
I might write a book out of it. I might even burn it all. It depends on how I want to leave that life behind me. All it does now is show me how sick I have been, but something.. someone.. has that chance to fix me. Strange to say but I will say it anyway because I won't say anything again: He's the only one who knows where to start.
And... I'm okay