I was looking through my files again and I found this unpublished blog entry of mine dated November 3, 2009. It’s an entry within an entry and I thought it was a little hilarious reading it now..:)
…… I feel like I have run out of words to write. Even now, it still seem true. What do I need to write that’s worth a time reading?
Because knowing my life, there’s really nothing interesting. I sleep, (usually late at night), I wake up in the morning (usually very late too), I eat, and I sit in front of the computer, clicking away my boredom.
There are times that I feel totally dejected and useless because, right now, I’m done with college and I’m definitely jobless.
Not that I haven’t been accepted to any jobs. It was because I quit all my previous jobs since I never ‘loved’ it.
And its not that I haven’t tried applying anywhere yet. In fact, I’m on the waiting list in the company where my dad works.
So, basically what I do to pass away my time every day, is sit in front of my laptop, fidget with websites and think about particularly nothing.
Lately though, as I mentioned in my previous entry, I was mysteriously bothered by the thought of my elongated presence on the internet.
I mean, my blogging presence.
When I googled my name, I saw a list of many websites linking and pointing their finger at me. Sites that I joined years ago. I got sacred. Literally. Sacred that I have stripped off myself too much online and there was nothing more I can hide from people anymore, both online and offline.
Especially when I read about those people who were being stalked because they put too much information online, enough for them to be traced to their real life address and be raped or kidnapped or something. Now that is scary, because I don’t want to be stalked. Ever.
My real (offline) friends know that I keep an online journal and that I am an internet geek. But to what extent have they known my existence online, I have no idea.
I have diminutive idea if they really read my entries or not. I receive little comments and mostly they were from people I really don’t know personally. And even in real life, I receive little comments.
Someone told me that he has read through my old online diary – every bits and pieces of it – and has been following this one every since.
Now if that would be true to most of the people I know, then I’m dead.
Not literally, idiot. But emotionally dead.
I mean, I am this quiet girl in real life. Who, at first meeting, would be really tight-lipped whom you would prefer throwing a plateful of sticky rice at. I am not that vocal about what I think and what I feel. I’d rather shy away in a corner and observe what you are doing, until such a time that you come to me and force me to talk.
And with someone reading my thoughts and feelings in a place I personally reserved for my emotions and playful thoughts, it feels pretty threatening.
I thought I have gotten through with this apprehension, but as I looked over my past online existence, every strands of my hair seemed to stick out of its pores. Figuratively – again.
Maybe I shouldn’t have started getting online in the first place. But everything is too late for me now. I feel totally emptied in front of everybody.
Maybe this is what I’m destined to be – an open diary. My life is an open diary….