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Last night, for no apparently good reason, I found myself randomly clicking through journal entries of mine from 2001. I think I was more honest, more direct, maybe even more open then, than I am now in this medium. I think there was a certain freedom in thinking that no one read, or would read my entries; I almost never responded to comments, for whatever that means.

Now, I think the knowledge of a readership has changed my relationship with this medium. I write more carefully, now, expose myself, particularly my doubts and neuroses, much, much less, and often cryptically when I do. For a variety of reasons, I don't trust my self, my potential audience, and the consequences of being as forthright as I used to be. It's weird; I'm not sure if either then or now is better, but there is a definite difference in tone, subject matter, and depth of excavation.

Date: 2005-03-16 03:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] becket.livejournal.com
Weird coincidence. I was doing much the same a day or so ago, wanting to relive through my words how I felt when I had first met K.

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