Why I do this....

It has come to my attention that I have been and am now creating something here that society (and academia) has not been able to make sense of. They question why anyone would make something public that is and has been so personal. They wonder how an individual could have a desire to explore ideas and thoughts that are so close to his or her heart in a space where anyone could see them and comment. They are baffled by the fact that otherwise socially and intellectually introverted people (read: me) would so boldly and freely articulate their hopes, aspirations, desires, and dreams to an arena that not only consists of the people whom they would not communicate with under normal circumstances but also includes the entire world.

Though I can't accurately speak for everyone, I'd like to (at least semi-intelligibly) speak for myself.

I started this journal as a means through which I could unload what was on my mind at the end of any given day. Because, honestly, (no matter how much I hate it and how much it jeopardizes the stability of my sanity at times) I live to think, and I, as a result, internalize and inwardly scrutinize everything that goes on in my head. If you were to ask me a year ago, I would have told you that I think too much. Now, because of my experiences in life and the ability to succinctly record and review them here, I see that, despite it all, I don't think nearly enough.

Essentially, here lies the end of the line for many tracks on which the train(s) of my thoughts have traveled. Every post here no matter how short or seemingly trivial is a (debatably) decipherable snapshot of ideas and thoughts that travel so quickly and in such abundance that they would (without the aid of this external storage) coalesce into a giant ball of uninterpretable, indirectable and unrefineable feelings. This journal keeps my mind free enough from these thoughts to be healthily burdened by them, and, in spite of my internal protests, creates an opening for others to dissect and interpret them in ways that may aid in their understanding of things they would never have ventured to observe before.

I would be lying if I said that this didn't scare me. I'm not one who revels in the idea that people (no matter how small the number) can see my thoughts and incorporate them into a pile of beliefs that affects and forms their own. But even with this being the case, I still feel a rush of happiness when someone tells me that my thoughts have made them think. I can see why this would be confusing to society. Because, like this journal, and, to a greater extent, me, it is an illogical contradiction.