It's just life
I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd.

once upon a time...

Tuesday, Aug. 12, 2008
...i spent a lot of time on myspace. not so much anymore. the more "connected" people whom should be long forgotten, social connect with me on the Internet when I haven't talked to or seen them in years, the less time I spend on said site.

I decided, sometime in the less year, to make my life less public. After doing the 365 self-portrait project, everyone knew way too much about my life. Everyone thought they knew all the stories, even if they were just glimpses of my adventures.

In my irritation, I stopped. I wanted to tell my own stories. I didn't want lurkers to know anything more that had already been divulged.

I've always been good at deleting old e-mails. Especially those I never wanted any record of. Especially with my myspace. I wanted to keep the folders clean. Especially since douchebag had my password and would check it.

Then one day, out of the blue last fall, all of the messages I had deleted showed up. Over a thousand of them in the last 4 years. It would take hours to delete them all with their crappy interface, so I never bothered and I never even looked at them.

For some reason, tonight, in my procrastination to go to sleep--I went back to the beginning. Highly amusing rereading one-way correspondence from former lovers and friends and enemies. I can't read the words of those whom have deleted their profiles and I wonder who they were and what they once said to me.

I do not have any messages I sent, just those sent to me. I only perused the first couple hundred. Stopping to read a few of them. Someday I'll read through them all.

Try to remember who I used to be and, hopefully, be glad I am not her anymore.

1:11 a.m. ::
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