Yeah, it was interesting to read people’s unfiltered narcissism sometimes. Just pages and pages of journal entries about how they were a genius and their agonizing over every little social interaction and relationship in their life. That had zero traffic of commentary.
I never ever understood any of it. But it was scary to realize some people really do think of their life as a novel and they are the main character struggling to some liberation or something.
All my blogs were just random nonsense or short fictional pieces. I could never take the ‘dear diary’ stuff seriously.
Most of my friends would just post random funny links or talk about something they did that day and if it was cool or not. I never had the privilege of socializing with people who were writing autobiographical novels on the internet.
Yeah, it was interesting to read people’s unfiltered narcissism sometimes. Just pages and pages of journal entries about how they were a genius and their agonizing over every little social interaction and relationship in their life. That had zero traffic of commentary.
I never ever understood any of it. But it was scary to realize some people really do think of their life as a novel and they are the main character struggling to some liberation or something.
All my blogs were just random nonsense or short fictional pieces. I could never take the ‘dear diary’ stuff seriously.
Most of my friends would just post random funny links or talk about something they did that day and if it was cool or not. I never had the privilege of socializing with people who were writing autobiographical novels on the internet.