An hour ago would have been better, I think. That was when I really wanted to write something. But I was in the middle of a movie, so I kept watching it instead of writing.

Anyway, nobody cares about my excuses.

I've been shooting a lot of pool over the last several months. A lot. One of my regular opponents, and also one of my newest good friends, is a dude at stupid Jack's. I'm better than he is, but he's been improving quickly. I kinda feel like I need to watch my back a little.

A couple of weeks ago we were talking about various pool stuff, and I (stupidly) mentioned that I used to post movies of shots and runs on my site. My friend, naturally, asked me for my URL so he could watch the movies.

Oops.

I changed the subject. I don't remember what I changed it to, that didn't matter, as long as it was changed to something other than the URL of my site.

This site.

I didn't want him to know the truth about me.

Because, see, if my friend watched my movies here then curiosity would probably lead him to my main blog here.

That would be bad.

I don't want people to know. I certainly don't want friends to know. It's not really that I'm ashamed, I don't think. It's more like I just don't want pity or advice. The former does no good, and the latter is crap I already know.

Get over it, and other bullshit like that.

Assuming one waded through the recent inane bullshit, and one got to the meat of the blog, the meat of me, one couldn't help but find out the truth about me.

It's all there for the reading. I'm splayed.

What's happened to me. What's been done to me. Who I am, and why. Word it however you want. It's what I've become, and it's why. One just has to read it, and accept it as the truth that it is.

Jump back far enough, and boy I used to write some doozies. Emotions boiled inside me constantly, and every now and then they'd bubble to the surface, and every now and then I'd let them spill out through my fingers onto the internet.

Oops.

It's just too much, to expect anyone to understand. I'm convinced that 99% of people haven't experienced what I've experienced. Am still experiencing. Will continue to experience. Nobody will understand unless they go through the same thing. And I don't wish this on my worst enemy. My worst enemy deserves better.

Lucky, that's what the 99% are. Unlucky, that's what I am.

Heh, notice how I blame luck, and not intentional cruelty. Even though all available evidence points the other way. My mind, my heart, still cannot accept that this was done to me on purpose, out of malice.

Go ahead, prove me right. Justify this. Make this worthwhile. I fucking dare you.

I was all set to write an entry, an hour ago. Now, not so much.