I have a hard time seeing the personal value of a journal. Especially since I hate my own writing worse than that feeling you get in the back of your face right before you throw up.
What good does catharsis do, really? Holden Caulfield is still crazy at the end of The Catcher of The Rye. I can spend hours bouncing my woes of the monitor, and after all, I will still be angry and alone.
What good does catharsis do, really? Holden Caulfield is still crazy at the end of The Catcher of The Rye. I can spend hours bouncing my woes of the monitor, and after all, I will still be angry and alone.
And tremendously lonely. This computer is so full of mopey music. It is certainly not improving my emotional state of affairs. I wish I could write.
Where is Brian?
Where is Brian?
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