spent so long

while i tiptoed around the idea of sharing my ideas and falling in love with new minds the internets grew up, got wise, stumbled drunk, said some things but never stopped churning. me? same guy, still bottled up and paying for it. i meet new people to feel reborn. i realize that i'm just a novelty that eventually reeks of stagnation. i maintain old friendships partly because of their true blue quality but also because they'll have me and its safe. i can admit my partial truths here just as i can in the yellowed pages of a leather-bound diary. there's no risk in either one because i will fail myself. i will fear that someone who matters will read what i write and leave my life. or worse still, laugh at my futile attempts. for once i feel old and mean it with sincerity. while kids act like jackasses i seethe in the corner with the anger of a person who won't allow himself to be ... uhm, himself. so i'm grouchy, lack the good sense to mind my health and go on pretending i know what it is i'm talking about. admit some truth for once. then repeat. and we (i) shall see to the task of abolishing this self-hatred.