Yesterday I walked on a cloud of air, but I can�t tell you why right now.
The reason I can�t tell you why? Well, I can�t tell you that either. You see, it�s now complicated. Convoluted even, and I�m not sure exactly how to sort things out. How to discuss them.
It�s difficult when the anonymity of your writing is shattered and someone gains direct access to your thoughts. Everything you commit to word must be filtered, reconsidered and sent through committee before approval. The exploration of your life events must be considered against someone else�s potentially negative interpretations.
It�s not a question of honesty, it�s a question of access and omission. What I say to a person is what I believe to be truth, but what I write is what I feel at a specific point in time. Those feelings are intrinsically subjective and personal, and often include the stuff you omit from normal conversation.
It has become an external monologue, and I�m not exactly sure how I should play that.
