I got nothing.
Each thing I write – or begin to write – turns down a path I do not with to make public, or pseudo-public. I am nowhere as open as I was when I first joined here. If not by words, then by actions, I am learning to close off myself, to not share of myself. At least anything of importance. The interaction is degrading, whether it is just my own corner or universally is unclear. As a result, I feel little desire to exert the effort. I should be making things elsewhere.
I guess I will stick with superfluous images of myself in various stages of dress.
Shallow is the new deep.
gryphon's hole 