superficial to understand the journal as just a receptacle for one’s private, secret thoughts – like a confidante who is deaf, dumb and illiterate.
in the journal i do not just express myself more openly that i could do to any person –
i create myself.
the journal is a vehicle for my sense of selfhood. it represents me as emotionally and spiritually independent. it does not simply record my daily life but rather – in many ways – it offers an alternative to it.
there is a contradiction between the meaning of our actions toward a person and what we say about them and what we feel toward them in a journal. it does not mean that what we do is shallow and only what we confess to ourselves is deep. sincere confessions can be more shallow than actions.
one of the main social purposes of a journal is to be read furtively by people, the people (like parents and lovers) about whom one has been cruelly honest only in the journal.
(will m. ever read this?)
writing. it’s corrupting to write with intent to moralize to elevate people’s moral standards.
nothing prevents me from being a good writer except laziness.
writing is important out of egoism, to be that “persona”.