So, it's me and this blog. And by now, I am starting to think who in the heck is reading this anyway? I suppose it doesn't even matter. "Do it for the fat lady," as Zooey says to Franny (Salinger).
Let's face it. Writing in a diary feels so obsolete at this point in life. I often don't want to write because my hand starts to cramp up after a few minutes. I am so not used to writing. Wow. That's such a strange fact to contemplate.
It's almost like writing to my own consciousness. Hello, Elizabeth, these are your thoughts for the day. Doesn't it feel good to get them out? Why, thank you for asking. Yes, it does. ;)
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