My Internet Best Friend. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

I find it fascinating what a small community this is. Despite the fact that there are still plenty of people I don't know, and I would assume don't know me either, there's still this common heritage between us all on some level. So many "Diariest" I've passed by had been on Open Diary since '99 or '00, which makes me slightly jealous, as I joined in late '01. Like, dawg, I was THERE, and hell, we all know I made some chaos on my own.

It makes me wonder. What's it like starting new on one of these sites? Are they completely archaic in their function? Fourteen years ago, there was no twitter or tumblr or facebook or instagram. For "young people" to interact on the internet, Open Diary was a novelty in the ability to bring people together. For those of us that have been here a "long" time, the novelty was the ability to splay yourself online, without judgement or "fear" of anybody "you knew" reading you.

But, again, for those of us who have been here a while, let's not kid ourselves: we started censoring ourselves ages ago. We gain readers and suddenly, gasp, we give a shit. Whether we intend to or not, we do. What starts as friendship born from vulnerable things gained, we suddenly don't want to share "other" things out of fear of the same judgement we came online to avoid.

Which leaves us.. where?

Or perhaps I'm just talking about myself. It's no secret I deliberately changed my style to writing to stop being the "Timmy" that I once was, to stop being the attention-whore, to write far more personal things rather than simply waving my arms for mindless notes. I wanted me to be me. And let me tell you, that's scary shit. It feels like so long ago that I was that attention-craving person. Yet, I remind myself why I craved attention. It comes back to feeling loved. The affection of strangers made me feel loved. It got me through some immensely dark times.

And now? I've spent an immense amount of energy trying to develop my "real" life. It's.. like trying to hang out with a bunch of old friends but forgetting how you used to act. And so you just sit quietly in the corner, recounting old stories of glory. How do I even begin with this current life I live? How do I continue being Timmy when I don't even know who I am in the first place?