I Bleed on this Screen for You

I started this journal shortly before my thirtieth birthday. I still am not quite sure whether I had any real intent behind the starting of this. I might have been doing it completely as a lark. In the past year, my time online has been spent far more on writing for this than for anything else, which ultimately surprises me.

See, in real life, while I'm a very open person with pretty much no topic off limits, I'm not at all a very forthcoming person. Most people have to open me up in conversation themselves--I don't do much in the way of advertising my personal life, background, proclivities, etc. Because of this, it's just a tad weird to me that I'm as forthcoming as I am with my life to all of you, many potentially strangers. Is it ironic that the internet can supply me with a weird sense of anonymity while it's being utilized as a function of the exact opposite?

I wish I knew who all comprised my visitors here. I've had a stat counter here for only a month and I know the 1500 visitors it's logged so far can't be only from me, my grandmother, Denise, Drew, Adj and Carolyn (we each would have had to visit 250 times in the month). I wonder though if I did know who all visited frequently, or at all, would I become less open? Can't really say. It would be nice to have a discourse with more of my readers. I have the personal e-mails of everyone I listed above, so blogging is pointless (or is it?) if they're my only audience.

Back to the beginning...I was turning thirty when I started this blog. I was going through a serious bout of early onset midlife crisis, and couldn't figure out why. Now I'm barely two months shy of 31. When I was 13, my dad was 31 and he was going to prison for child molestation. I'm now as old as my father was when I discovered he was a sick sick bad bad man and my own world was shattered by it all. Somewhere in me I can feel another big emotional personal crisis building and I wonder if last year was maybe just the rumblings before the big quake. Maybe it wasn't that 30 was a milestone for me at all so much as it was just a precursor of an age that had major emotional impact on me as a kid. Am I just being f-ing neurotic? I think I'm looking towards a year that will be incredibly hard on my psyche. Damn him for everything he's done in life. Damn him for causing me to plant doubt of myself in my heart and carrying that doubt with me the last 18 years, and every year to come from here on. Damn him.

A while back someone asked me here what my greatest fear was. While I answered with something that is truly a great fear of mine, I lied about it being my greatest. My greatest fear is waking up and finding out that nurture is nothing and nature is everything. My greatest fear is becoming him. Not a chance of it happening, but I still fear it. I think this year might end up being a really big mindf-- for me, and that I'll be fairly neurotic all the way to 32 (and do my best to hide it well).

Maybe I wasn't so off the mark last year when I kept saying the world was going to end on my thirtieth birthday.