I guess there are people reading this site now. That's a strange concept for me. I'm worried I'll start censoring myself, consciously and unconsciously, because of the new readers, all two of them. It's not just a new audience, it's that now I'm very aware that people actually read this. Before my 'audience' was more of an abstraction, a faceless collective of readers who I may or may not know. Even the comments from friends seemed abstract. Comments were just little shouts from the gallery that puncuated my epic soliloquy. You see, I don't write posts as I would write a diary entry or anything like that; rather, each post is a little act, part of the never-ending play that's constantly unravelling in my mind. How is this different from the standard diary? Well, a diary almost exclusively deals with the truth. Each entry may not be factual, but the thoughts, ideas, emotions are truthful reflections written in a genuine way. My posts are nothing like that.

I mix and match truths, half-truths, white lies, lies and damned lies to create a post. Each post is a strange combination of who am I, who I was, who I wish to be, who I think I am, and a whole lot of who I fear I am. I suppose most diaries are like this too, but I consciously choose from which perspectives I will posting. And even after that selective truth I will straight up lie to finish off the post. I won't make up events or facts, but I will create emotions and thoughts that don't come from a purely genuine place. These half-lies are usually emotions I wish I had or thoughts I once had. The best part is that I don't really know where the honest emotions end and the lies begin. Each post is a twisted reflection of the identity I want, consciously and subconsciously, to present to the world and to myself.

This makes no sense but I can't sleep so I'll continue. Keep this in mind: I'm insane and my blog is not a reflection of who I actually am, it is not a reflection of anything except the play in my head. Prepare for no transition.

***

I, just like you, create my own identity. We both do this the same way. We buy things, eat things, listen to things, read things, CONSUME things. All of these 'things' create who we are, thank you English 205. So, according to other psychology people that I don't believe, occasionally we consume certain things not for the sake of their consumption but for the identity that these things create for us. (My response to this is a big, far DUH, but I digress). So, I'm guessing that I create certain emotions (theories, thoughts, or ideas would also work here but because of verb agreement I have to pick just one), not because I experience them, but because I want to be the type person who experiences them. That was a difficult sentence, especially with the parenthetical refrain, so read it again.

Right now you're probably thinging: 1) Of course you do that, idiot; 2) My head hurts; 3) Stop telling me what I'm thinking.

These emotions that I want to feel before I actuall feel them, are they real? Of course, I want to go into a Sartre lecture, but I won't. Simply because the origin of the emotions is unconventional doesn't mean that they are false emotions. I still feel them. I would argue that there is absolutely no difference between a emotion that is caused by the exterior and one caused by the interior. I would argue further that all emotions are interior; therefore, all emotions are choosen. But yeah, I'm losing you now with this existential shit. So what the fuck is my point?? I forgot. Oh yeah.

Certain ('All' should go here according to Sartre) emotions, thoughts, theories, and ideas on this blog have no exterior influence. Sometimes (Again, 'Always' according to Sartre) I choose these emotions, thoughts, theories, and ideas because I want the identity they'll give me. What does this have to do with the blog? Not a whole lot. It's just that I was lying before. Nothing on here is a pure lie. I feel everything I express in some degree. But the reader must realize that the emotions I discuss are probably not 'caused' in usual ways. That is to say, I create, without any help, a lot of this blog's emotion. And, most importantly, these emotions that don't really have a 'cause' don't affect me as deeply as one would think. Am I feeling them? Yes. Are the emotions 'caused' like most of your's are? No. Are they real? Yes. Should you be reading this? No. Should you ever believe I'm telling the truth? Absolutely Not.

I'm not going to read this shit because I know editting is futile. It won't make sense ever, and it doesn't really bother me. I'm 19 and I have a chance to live 60 more years, I'll have plenty of time to make sense. Listen to Grace and leave me the fuck alone.

That just reminded me of something. Those last few paragraphs are definitely applicable to music. But that's another post that I'm already writing in my head.