// delusions
| 06/30/2003 - 9:00 p.m. |

As I've been going through my old journals, I've been having this bizarre fantasy about getting them published.

Bizarre because just, woah!, why in the world would I want to basically whore my heart and soul?

Although, is there really that big a difference with my current online journal, i.e. this? Hmmm...

I'm not really sure what makes me think anyone would actually be interested in my tortuous, extremely self-absorbed, psychobabbling, often repetitive ramblings...but, well, there certainly is a market out there for angsty memoirs, personal stories of EDs, depression, and other craziness.

What I haven't ever come across is writing about therapy with the depth, detail, raw honesty and vulnerability that I've done over the years.

I dunno, it's just an interesting thought.

I'm nearly a year in at this point, and it's intense and it's lengthy. I know that both, but especially the latter, drop off eventually, and it's hardly a story with a satisfying ending of any sort at this point.

But still, it's at least an intriguing fantasy for me to play with.

A way to possibly actually do something with my days that earns $$??

Where exactly I think the brain power, attention, concentration, motivation, focus, etc. for such an undertaking would come from, I have no clue either. Editing, adding, explaining, etc., not to mention finding someone to back the project...My aunt c. could probably be a big help?...

The whys, for what imagined purpose...again I'm not clear on.

Just another far-flung, pointless fantasy most likely--anything to help me avoid reality...



...S. asked if I thought I would have to be hospitalized anyway when I go back east.

*not thinking about it. not thinking about anything*

[more about S. in paper journal]