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A fractured soul
I felt like writing an entry, so, uhm, yeah! I need to make a new layout for this, I really do. I hate seeing all the broken images. Heh. Maybe if I get back into writing in here more frequently, I'll get back into wanting to make it look nice, instead of just plain and boring and broken. I mean, I used to love writing in here. I have 621 entries counting this one. I guess what really makes me dislike writing in here is the fact that I've had trouble here in the past. And now that I've stopped writing as frequently... it went downhill in 2005 and kind of died in 2006... I don't really want to start again, because this journal was always such a complete one, recording everything, and now it's started missing things. BIG things. Like, Lightning died in December and DoaSO never caught the tail end of a word. I think the boy that I adored for most of this school year, nickname Andre, got mentioned once in passing. Same for Randy, my boyfriend. Boyfriend what?! Yeah, DoaSO missed out on that too. And I didn't turn to DoaSO like I would have two years ago when I got turned down by both the PGSA and the Kenyon summer camps, and I never even mentioned the Britton Scholarship I won, which is my key to taking two classes at Dickinson College next school year. I would like to get back into writing here, though. Do I really need to catch much up? Part of me feels incomplete, like if I don't, this journal will have lost its purpose. But, you know, I am not incomplete -- it's not like for those two years of declining entries I totally fell off the face of the earth. I've had journals forever, and very complete ones since December of freshman year. I have xangas that I write in frequently. I have other journals, tucked into their varying layers of time and stage and attitude, and when you scrape together all of them, there I am. I write about everything. I write every day. My soul may be fractured into six or seven fragments of records from other times and other purposes, but it is not an incomplete soul... it is just a private one. Part of me knows I can't pour too much of myself into any one place. If the diaryland server died tomorrow simultaneously with its backups or the people who care to fix the problem, I would be sad, but not too lost. I still have myself and my other pieces of my writers' soul.... -Adrienne
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Wolter 2001-2007, unless otherwise noted. Do not steal, and
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