It died quite some time ago, with the advent of Myspace and shortly afterwards Facebook. Blogs turned to bulletins turned to notes, each time losing more and more writers. What was the last meaningful thing you read in a Myspace bulletin? How many Facebook notes do you read in a week? And every so often I'll remember that it all started with Livejournal for me, and I'll come back here and look at my friends page to determine who still uses, and that number has dwindled down to only a handful of people that I can count on one hand. And it occurs to me, that the only people still writing on Livejournal are the people that have to, the ones that really have things to say. They might not be things to read, but they have something inside of them that they need to get out. I'm one of those people, and I always have been, but I've tried denying it for longer than I can remember. I hate the pretentious nature of blogging, as if by putting your life in a journal and exhibitting it to the world you're saying "Look at me, this is the world and I'm it's star!" I avoided that through all sorts of measures. I stopped using Livejournal, and when Myspace took over I limited my blogging, and when Facebook took over I refused to write personal notes. Now I've got nothing, nothing except that persistent desire to express my thoughts before they flood my brain to the point of inability. I have to write, but I denied myself all the outlets where I could write. Until I realized that Livejournal wasn't just an exhibit of emotion where young people contested who was deeper. Myspace and Facebook are, yes, and at a time Livejournal was too, but it's dwindled and suffered so much that the only people still here are those that absolutely require it. People like me.
And with that, I announce my intentions to return to Livejournal. Whether it'll last, who can say, but so long as I live and breathe I'll have things that I need to write, and no longer will I deny myself that ability out of fear of perception. And to kick off my return to Livejournal, I'll share two passages from Susanna Kaysen's The Camera My Mother Gave Me
Why I Am Opposed to Antidepressants
Because I think depression has something to tell me
Because often depression is an appropriate reaction.
Because I am terrified of changing the functioning of my brain in any way.
Because I believe that depression is "me," and that without it I would not be "me."
Because I can't imagine my life without the time off I get from periodic depression.
These are the typical idiotic reasons people give for not wanting to feel better. So in this respect, I am quite normal.
Don't separate the mind from the body. Don't separate even character--you can't. Our unit of existence is a body, a physical, tangible, sensate entity with perceptions and reactions that express it and form it simultaneously.
Disease is one of our languages. Doctors understand what disease has to say about itself. It's up to the person with the disease to understand what the disease has to say to her.
My vagina keeps trying to get my attention. It has something important to say to me. I'm listening.
I'm still listening.