Que Sera Sera

S is for Sarah, Who Died of Ennui

I rarely check my stats, mostly because when I do, it freaks me out. When I first started this site, no one knew about it but me, but now I’m pretty aware that almost every single person I know in real life knows about it, and reads it on a semi-regular basis, including my little brother and every person I’ve been romantically involved with in the past four years. I try to ignore that and write what I want to anyway, but I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t hinder me sometimes, or make me omit things; mostly the mentions of true love and anal sex. Over the past six months or so, I’ve started keeping the more personal details and thoughts to myself. Sometimes I miss being able to write so openly, but it’s not a big deal; I still enjoy writing in this sort of forum, and I like that my friends read it. I’m just a little bored with it lately.

I originally began this as an exercise to make myself write every day after losing my writing job, and it’s evolved into a much bigger part of my life, and I’ve had a lot of fun with it. Lately, though, it’s just not something that interests me as much. Updating it feels like a chore, and definitely not a priority. There are all these other things in my life that I’d rather focus on right now. I’m not going to stop writing here, but I think that, at least for the time being, it’s going to be a little more sporadic. This could change in a few days, and probably will, but I feel bad when I bring up the page and it’s blank, so I thought I’d at least let it be known.

And don’t think I don’t realize how lame that is, to take a break from your site, and how it’s even lamer to announce it, like anyone fucking cares. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I know a lot of people read this everyday, and I appreciate every kind thing those people have ever said, even most of the crazies or sycophants. This site has brought me many wonderful little exchanges and moments that wouldn’t have happened without it existing, but I’m not so full of myself as to go thinking this is Important or something; it’s the internet. My feeling is that the internet sort of doesn’t count. On account of it not being real life and all. You know how it is.

Anyway, so: I guess I’m on a break or something? Whatever. Everyone knows that all breaks end the same way: you just end up drunk one night and call on your walk home, and they ask you to come over and you do, and then the next thing you know you wake up together and eat breakfast and read the paper and then there you are, back to the bullet-point lists and one sentence-long paragraph posts, like nothing ever happened. There’s a lot of whiskey between there and then, though, so until that time, I’m going to stop feeling guilty for not updating.

See you very soon.

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