What I like most about Diaryland is that most of us aren't writing for an audience. We all pretend that there is no one reading the words we write and so we just lay them out there. Without much context or explanation or inhibition.
We are just our true, ugly, broken selves on here. And that's really beautiful.
My friend Zak used to write on here. Really beautiful words. Really honest stuff. We met up for drinks a few weeks ago, I've never seen him so lonely. I told him to start writing on here again. I told him how strangers will read his words and love him for how well they can relate.
I trained a girl at work today. She is 17 and a nihilist. She said she likes Christmas because it tries so hard to make her happy. She is in love with Nietzsche. I thought that if she were ten years older, I would try to date her. Not because that would be the more socially acceptable age to date her, but because she needs that extra ten years to work through her existential crisis to become really interesting. Someone who finds darkness that soon has to turn their life into something incredibly beautiful. It's the only way to survive. I hope she survives.
My dad called me yesterday to tell me my aunt died. My aunt Joyce. I don't think I ever met her and certainly don't remember my dad ever talking about her. He told me she died alone. She didn't even want her son near her. He told me that she was a "vile and hateful woman" and then changed the subject to talk about this new business he's invested in.
That was his sister. His older sister just died and he talked about it with less emotion than if she was some B-list celebrity.
My dad isn't close with any of his siblings. I am not sure that I can even name them all. My mom isn't close to her brothers either. It's weird. They are such broken and dysfunctional people.
No wonder I am so fucked up.
Broken people raise broken people who marry broken people and then raise more broken people.
I wish the cycle would stop. I guess I am trying to stop it.
My plan was to somehow tie all these disparate thoughts into one coherent theme. To wrap it up in a nice little bow. That didn't happen though.
It's like I am not writing for an audience
9:24 p.m. - 2015-11-15
Recent entries:
Weed and Ellington - 2016-01-06
The Erotic Adventures of Zhaungzhi - 2016-01-03
Ugh, dating. - 2015-12-22
Alone - 2015-12-06
The Longest Week of the Year - 2015-11-28
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