Why do we fear loneliness so much?
What's so scary about being without human company?

Maybe I'm just obsessed with the wrong things (again). But I've always longed for contact, and then avoided it as much as possible. Sometimes I feel lonelier among people than when I'm alone in my room. It's safe here. No hidden meanings. Days seem to last longer. No unnecessary waste of time.

When the night comes, it becomes harder. So many thoughts can't be put into words. Longing for something unknown, and anguish. Perhaps when we're alone we remember how fragile and ephemeral we are.

So we have to keep ourselves busy, our minds occupied. Staying in crowded rooms. "Socialising"with strangers. Listening to loud music. Chatting on the phone. Watching films or reading books that block reality out. Exercising. Wasting time on the internet. Getting drunk. Taking drugs. Anything to stop us from thinking the unthinkable: our own end, the eternal silence.

This is never going to work- why did I ever think I could possibly blog? I mean, I don't really want to share personal thoughts with anybody out there. That's what friends (and diaries) are for. I don't want to write about what's happening in the world because too many people do that already. No I don't think that my comments will make a difference.

I also have little interest in current affairs...or reality or whatever. Seriously. I don't have a TV, I don't listen to the radio, I don't check for news on the internet. I read the Guardian once or twice a week, but that's just because I like..reading. And, well, I need to sustain the whole journalist-to-be image, right?

In fact, it's obvious that I could never be a good journalist. There is still some hope that I might be a bad one. Not that this is my dream or anything. Let's say it is the path i'm following right now. Or trying to follow. It's so hard to concentrate on anything with all these things going on in my head. Nothing important, just lots of questions. And confusion.

And..who cares what's on my mind anyway. I'm not even sure I care. There are too many I's in this text. Another self-centered self-pitying story. Lets end it here. I promise (to myself) I 'll never blog again unless i have something important to say.

First of all let's start with another cliche...a little bit of existentialism. What's the point of blogging anyway? I mean, we all need to reassure our importance once in a while...to our selves at least. The internet gradually took away our last illusions of uniqueness; it made us realize how small, trivial, ephemeral we are. It's almost like looking at the stars on a clear summer night. Or like walking alone in the streets of a vast, unfamiliar city.

So now we are trying to fight back; we are reclaiming our own space and identities through blogging; we are trying to make our voices heard; we are reaching out for some kind of communication within this mass of endless information. Something like a message in a bottle.

Does it work? Well, i guess it depends on how lucky you are. Maybe also on the bottle you choose- its all about marketing these days. But you don't have much choice when stranded on a deserted island, right??

Ok enough of this nonsense for now. I'm only experimenting. This anonymity is almost..exciting. You can be whoever you want. Which can be a problem if you have no idea who you want to be. Or how. Or why. But we'll talk about that another time..