I'm a disease that
hasn't been named yet.
"Someone call an ambulance
There's gonna be an... accident."
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I called this place quiet yesterday. I call it quiet because I can hear my screaming loudest here.
Dear Diary,
You are more a part of me than I am myself today. Years ago, I came to you with my eyes shut and my body shaking. I don't remember who I was then, but you do. I came here and you showed me some of the most amazing people. You also connected me with those who have devastated my life the most thus far. Some of them being both kinds at once. But without you, I'd be dead now. Truly. I'd be a grave or a scattered ash without the freedom I discovered in you.
I fancy myself some kind of gatekeeper to a graveyard, the reader of epitaphs of all those people I cherish. When really, there's nowhere else for me but here, my dear Diaryland. I fear the day I might come to find this site gone, closing me down in its wake. My devotion to this diary is the truest I've ever had, and the only one I desire. It sounds sad to others I suppose- to be so attached to some silly site of lavendar and orange. But this cyber-home has fostered my soul more than any building or person could, or has.
I love it here because this is my only haven in all the world. Where I can be seen or be invisible, wearing my skin or any other skin I desire. Yes, here is home. And I won't ever leave you, because if I do, I will be lost.