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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door

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Manjkajoča Stran Iz Mojega Dnevnika

Self-loathe isn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.

A blog is a digital age jargon that refers to an online diary. Also refers to chronology of thought. Online diary?! I used to think of that as being a pathetic invention by webmasters made as an attempt to add more realism to the cyber age. Months passed… perhaps even years. I decided then to use the latter definition and simply just BLOG things in a weak attempt to share my mind with others. That was my first step to what I'd like to call "psychological recovery".

Today, 4 am. May 27, 2006. I've decided to push myself out of the closet I've always successfully managed to keep myself locked in. Most of the people who really know me also know that I don’t share much of myself. I only write what I feel. Other than that, it's plain bullshit. But when it comes to the actual concept of speaking out my mind, I usually tend to quietly keep to myself… and judge my surrounding environment with everything and everyone in it. I never cared about how people thought of me. Some did like me eventually and thought of me as something special even. To those I can never be more thankful. Others thought of me as, basically, the asshole. The "freak" of the conversation or whatever. Prior to today, I never really gave a rat's ass about all that. I was just being the me that I want people to know… but was that really me? Some of you out there already know the real me, but that doesn't mean that you're special or that you should feel honored or privileged. It means that I'm the one who feels special enough to have known you, certain individual. Know you enough to be myself around you.

There are two ways to perceive the above. I can be viewed as an arrogant bastard who thinks he's too special for people… or as a shy individual who doesn't really know how to commit to social hypocrisy.

My blogs were basically short definitions of the being I'm trying to reach. Small steps for me to walk along with. I look back at what I just wrote and find that I have managed to walk astray this one time… and turn this, all of this, in to an online diary. Something that I have always had nothing but despise for. I never thought that there would come a time where everything that I do and everyone I know would backfire right into my face. This online diary frenzy I'm trying to float into right now is only an attempt for me to force the me that I know to face the me that I am. And you deserve to have that statement said out loud in public for the whole online community to see.

There are two ways to perceive the above. I can be viewed as a freak who has nothing better to do but to make a complete fool out of himself… or as a person who has just matured a little more.

Diaries explain more than anything the true self that we think is too personal to share with anyone. Not even soul mates. Not even best friends.

I think that to make a diary open to the world, to have it translated into a BLOG, is to have it written in such a way that only people who truly know you could see through it. A diary is not only about the shit you did today or the people whom you might have been obsessed with. We're not six anymore. As scary as it is, we're ADULTS now and it's about time we learned how to cope with it. I've never personally kept a diary. The longest I've had one was probably for a couple weeks when I was 11, and at that time I was really pissed at my brother and I needed someone whom I could trust to talk to. As phobic as it seems, I've always had trust issues. I don't trust people. I don't trust my family. I don't trust my best friend. To me, it's always been as if they're all going to judge me eventually. Come to think of it… I deserve to be judged.

There are two ways to perceive the above. I'm either a person who's never found someone he could talk to without getting light focused on – call that unlucky. Shit happens! Or I could be that mildly insecure person who's too afraid to see people's reactions to the things that he are.

If I ever kept a long-term diary it would probably include wishes for the things that I want for Christmas. I see it also including arguments, feelings, discussions… random randomness. It would include pages where a person can feel as low as he needs to be without being felt sorry for. Where a person can hide. Where a person can feel sorry for losing a friend.

If I ever kept a long-term diary, I still wouldn't share it.

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