12:48 p.m. | 2004-06-24
A Conversation To Myself
Dear Diary,
I'm sorry I've become boring. And fleeting. And I've run away on numerous occassions.
I love you, you huge grouping of electrons and coding that is my site. I really do. I've neglected you, and not put love into you, and been so caught up in me...that I forgot about you.
The nights we shared of me crying over a keyboard, sobbing to the point that I couldn't see what keys I was hitting.
The hours I spent sitting with notebook open trying to fix your code, because I had broken you.
The times I contimplated life and love, and made final decisions based on what I felt bold enough to get out in here.
You may not be real. You may not really offer me anything that I can't offer myself--but I need you.
See, I've become lost. I got a letter the other day accepting me into another college. Now...I love college, and I love learning, and I will get my degree. But I have this huge thought right now that perhaps taking a year off would be right for me. And even though I'm not thinking about it all the time, it takes up so much of my good thinking time--so that I cannot devote any to you.
I owe you more. For the times you listened, and the times you refused to let me post entries I really shouldn't have posted. You're my guiding factor, my own psychiatrist, and I need you back.
This is my way of apologizing, I guess, for not treating you correctly. I promise I will have more angst today, and more promises, and I will fulfill my duties as a writer.
With sorrow,
Lauren
