It’s not as easy to come up with things to write about on the internet anymore. I live in a very different world from my LiveJournal days 4-14 years in the past; I had less of a job at stake, more time at the computer to type, and a much narrower audience of strangers and confidantes. I thought my feelings meant something (they didn’t). There was more privacy and less at stake, or so my rose coloured retrospect portrays. Regardless of the difference in consequences, I was still far less timid in written expression than I am now.
There are a lot of things I want to tell the world, but I’m not paid to do so and my skills have deteriorated as I’ve been paid to do other things. I’ve also learned how little my opinions matter on what matters to the bulk of the world. I don’t have insight on social problems that the people actually facing them do, and the social problems I actually face are far less social and/or far lesser problems.
There’s a lot I’d like to share into the void, but I can’t. Other people are at stake. Code names are immature and easily deciphered. If the few tuning ears were strangers like they used to be, it wouldn’t be such a risk. But I’m followed with intent. If anyone’s reading this, you want to crack into my life and secrecy – and there’s a very good reason I can’t let you do that.