1:47 p.m. | 2004-08-05
I Am Your Bearer of Bad News
You know...I love reviewing. And I do it because sometimes I will bash your diary, or site, or whatever, but it'll be with just cause. And I do it 'cause some of you say thank you.
But I've been noticing more and more...that people are getting worse and worse around here.
Review sites suck (not only do they take months, but you get a review that was like "ew: 34/100" or "wow! I give full points!" People who used to update, now never update, and I haven't found a new diary to become obsessed with in months.
Why all this talk then?
I'm considering leaving. 'Cause...I mean, I'm not going to do this for the rest of my life, am I? I'm not going to sit at this computer on this dinky website and fill in thoughts of feelings to a small pixelated box, am I? When does it end?
I don't want to fade out. And I don't want to dissapear. So I'm thinking, perhaps, that leaving would be the only solution.
It's not that some of you don't rock. My pookies (FV, Laura, Em, and my wo-girl to name a few) all rock. They leave me love, and tell me to be strong, and do all this stuff for me. But...I don't really want to be here somedays.
My attachment to this thing is unhealthy. And honestly, I'd rather be addicted to some other unhealthy thing, like hamburgers, or ping pong. Just anything but this.
Because it's so draining at the end of the day to hear that people don't give a fuck. That all this time you've put in (re-formatting this page took 32 hours) means absolutely nothing, over details that people never notice. It gets old.
So I might not be back. And I'm not proud of this as a goodbye entry, but oh well. I suppose I'll just say fuck it.
If I dissapear and never come back: I loved you. I'm sorry I was terrible to you people/this waste of space on the internet at times, but...that's the way life goes I suppose. One piece of ugliness followed by another.
Adieu.
