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There's a sick and twisted desire some of us fringe dwellers have to scream at the world. To be so honest, so brutally honest about what we're thinking, at that very moment, that we want to tell the entire world. Sublime moments of over sharing. Flailing at the world in all our horrifically grotesque inadequacies.

What drives this need? Surprisingly, not the thirst for pity. Not the thinly veiled gulping down of needed compliments. The fact that anyone would care about what we have to say is, to say the least, supremely embarrassing. No, this need, it stems from a lifetime of repression. From birth, we are taught to be polite. To be kind. To be neat. To veil all our inadequacies, which we all possess, and distract everyone away from them with small talk about weather and politics. Most of us embrace this concept. Some of us, we feel a constant urge, to rebel and tell all.

If only the eventual embarrassment were bearable.

Hence, this journal. A private journal doesn't fill that need of public spectacle. However, an anonymous internet journal is a perfect medium.

I am ambivilant as to whether anyone will choose to read this. I love a public spectacle, but understand the internet is meaningless, inconsequential, and false. However, I will be satisfied knowing that everything I write will be public. It will all be dreadful. It will all be honest. And, hopefully, will fill that urge. So I don't have to face my peers the next day, mortified that they know yet another of my not so deep and always petty, flaws.