This journal began without any sense of importance or seriousness.
Some random chat brought me to a friend�s page on a place called Diaryland. While I was somewhat impressed that this person essentially gave me a key into their thoughts, I didn't ever consider the scope of writing an anonymous diary.
It seemed like something fun, something carefree and expressive.
On a lark, I reserved a name just in case it would be something I'd like to do.
automouse.diaryland.com
It was a random choice based on my e-mail address, and I'm still somewhat embarrassed by it. It means nothing and it has absolutely nothing to do with me, much less the actual name of the diary...but I digress.
I spent a few days trying to come up with a concept for this proposed journal and I eventually settled on the idea of Insomnia.
I've had varying degrees of sleeplessness since I was twelve years old, and while most people consider that to be somewhat tragic, I know that it has done more to shape the person that I am then almost anything else in my life.
Those moments I spend not falling asleep always lead to intensive self-reflection and analysis. When you're sitting there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the one person you can't run from is yourself.
I envisioned this journal as a collection of selected moments and thoughts, written by an insomniac for insomniacs to peruse late at night. And so, �The Insomniac�s Digest� was born. A narcissistic outlet for all the crap I don�t say, but think anyway.
I honestly didn't expect to write very much at all. I lack dedication in all facets of my life and I have a self-destructive disinterest in any of my own artistic skills. Basically, I don�t finish anything, so I expected this to fall by the wayside many moons ago like all my other projects.
Yet somehow, without noticing, this casual hobby became a form of therapy for me. These snippets of life became a chronicle of my history. It became an exploration in the highly overrated art of stringing words together. I noticed that I was able to let go of things far more easily and I was able to remember past moments and all the feelings associated with them. I began to explore things more painful for me, and every day it grew more honest and more emotionally revealing.
But all the while, I never considered the notion that someone might eventually read something I've written about them. I never considered that someone might be affected by my writing, not because of empathy for my situation, but because of direct personal involvement in it.
i was online tonight and i looked at your profile as i often do to see if there are any updates. i decided to look at your diary thingie and came across something you wrote on 3/7. wow again.
i dont know what to say. did you want me to see that? did you think i would? its strange that i did because i havent viewed your journal in months.
my jaw dropped and i started crying. i miss you.
not just because of what you wrote.
the other day i was going through a bunch of junk in my desk and i came across some letters you wrote me. i still have your bad haircut story up on my wall. youre still with me. youre just not....
i do hope that im not imposing on your life. the last time we spoke you were a bit standoffish which is more than understandable. if you still feel that way, ill understand.
things ended rather badly. the truth is, i was just scared. i still am. i had feelings for someone that was in a whole other state, in a whole other world. too far away.
whatever, im not making much sense to you probably.
i just wanted to say hello and say how sorry i am for shutting you out.
you are an awesome guy. an amazing guy. im more than surprised that you havent been snatched up yet.
you deserve to be happy.
i hope that for the most part things are going well for you.
my life is a soap opera as always....
if you want to, you can write back. id like to hear from you.
