Hello, dear readers.
I did something recently, something that I’ve never done before:
murdered a hobo Shared my blog with an actual real life person. Two things about this, though, must be taken into account before you judge me–one, they’re a very special person; and two, I’ve gotten a lot better about blogging and not sounding like a violent sociopath. Not a lot better, mind you, but it’s not like I go around murdering hobos.
I’ve been doing this for almost two years. Well, probably a whole two years if you count my extremely depressing, short-lived blog that came right before this one, that none of you ever get to see lest I stab myself with a spoon to preserve my honor. Yeah. It’s that bad.
I guess the reason sharing is a big deal, and why I haven’t ever done it before is because have you seen my blog? I say cuss words and talk about Bad Things and I don’t want my mom or my grandma reading about that. That’s, like, no. No.
More than that, though, it’s because blogging is like literary masturbation. You write until words stop coming out and you don’t really expect anyone to read it. I mean, if they do, then that’s okay–it’s there for a reason, to be seen; but you also don’t go flaunting it around talking about how great it is. You might, but I don’t. Usually I’m just very happy when I don’t get lynched.
And isn’t that, my friends, the true meaning of life? Not to be lynched? I think it is. But, then again, I’m me; and You know who I am.