As I look back at the entries I've written over the last two years, a question comes to me: What have I been writing for? It seems a commitment to myself, to note the thoughts of even vague consequence such that I may recall them years hence.
Yet it feels like I have not been true to myself. Blogging seems far less personal than my diary writing ever was. Back in high school, my diary never left my side. I did everything in my power to keep others from reading it. A blog is open for all to read, since it is actually online and meant to be accessed.
As a result, some things just cannot be written on a blog. Personal things, echoes of creation, specific follies that affect others and all their like. In a way, this means the blog is in no way as comprehensive as a true diary. Of course, the initial purpose of this exercise was to provide a way to share thoughts with others. Less personal, perhaps, but nonetheless cathartic. I get the nagging feeling, though, that keeping a diary as well would allow for more frank entries.
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