I used to have such interesting things to say. I read them now and am like �damn, I wrote that, that�s not bad�.

For example, I was trying to find Leggodad�s wife�s diary, to see if it�s been updated since I last read it. I couldn�t find it, so I browse leggodad�s notes, in an attempt to find some reference to the name. Okay, build up is too long, shut up.

I found this:
�What's more disturbing, the diaries out there or that we are so drawn to read them? I'm becoming desensitized to the human condition submerged in this morass of society. Dysfunction no longer impresses me nor does it entertain like it used to (twisted sense of the word, I realize). �Oh, another cutter.� �Oh, another girl who wants a different body.� �Oh, another lonely and frustrated guy.� Are we enlightened by this community or shackled and clubbed over our intellectual heads? I think this condition used to be reserved solely by social workers. Gift or curse... Who knows, it�s just another addiction.�

I wrote that!

Obviously back when I was addicted to the voyeuristic past time of reading into other people�s shit.

And yes, this is perhaps the first time I�ve updated twice in one day in like.. fucking years I bet. Probably since Susan. You know, that other me. It seems so far away.

Oh, right.. it was.

-G

Oh and I realize this template doesn't suit me anymore. I should probably have like flowers and rainbows 'n shit.