Davies' Lounge.

On the eastern underside of the world is an oddly shaped nolvety island. On that island is me, the left-wing, rock addicted, pollitically motivated, film loveing bad speller. And this is my blog.

May 27, 2007

Signing out.

This is officially going to be my last post. I've decided that I should probably give some explanation as to why rather then just stop posting, so here it is.
Keeping something like a blog is bloody hard for me. This is not for a reason like I can't be bothered or something like that, but is the result of one of the many emotional insecurities that I have and keep guarded so much that I would be very much surprised if anyone was aware of them. When I write something about myself, even if i know that very few people if any will ever see it, it makes me feel unbelievably, irrevocably visible. The idea that anyone can see me is so repellent and frightening that it courses within me a response very close to panic; though once again in order to insure that no trace of this escapes to my exterior I immediately transfer said panic into depression. Which, as many people are no doubt aware, can be concealed without much trouble. This adherence to visibility comes from a simple course: I hate myself and everything about me and have a great deal of trouble imagining why anyone else should feel anything different about me. I know, however, that this is not the case. My friends and family alike I am well aware care very deeply about me, and would continue to do so if I were, proverbially, striped naked of all pretense and needless defenses. Also, over the past few years especially I have come to realize with an absolute certainty that I can feel in no other aspect of life that the only one the one that knows me far better then I know myself will love my no matter what, and that knowledge and the strength that He gives me has kept my alive, brought me back when I'm at my worst. Still, I am severely inhibited in everything I do by the constant awareness that I have that from every angle I am being judged and found wanting, I do not need to be told that I'm worthless to know that it is true. The amount of stress that the fact or even the idea of keeping a blog affords me can be no measure be considered worth it, for unlike the flash of silent tears that i allow myself in moments of privacy it has no healing value whatsoever. I do not know why speaking my mind constantly proves to be so difficult, and any guess that I could hazard would reflect on various of my familiars so unkindly that I will leave them unspoken. I will end this post here before I say to much. And anyone who finds this post to any degree distressing, feel confident that I will survive. That is enough.

See ya. Ig.