The First Load

I keep a diary.

Or should I say kept?

However, after the third time your friends find and read them, and after the eighth time your sister has plundered their pages, one tends to get a bit shirty. During my most recent spat with a dear, though misguided, friend in which I demanded to know what strange quirk in his psychology made it okay to read a person's private thoughts and ramblings, he looked at me blankly and said:

"I really don't get why you're so upset about your diary. Isn't it like, a blog?"

It would seem that the blog culture is to blame for my lack of privacy. (or my mate's lack of scruples.) It would also seem that I am the only kid in the class of 09, who is not in possession of a blog.

*You are sixteen, going on sixty......*

But since there seems to be something refreshing in baring your soul to strangers, which, I have come to understand, is what this whole 'blog culture' is about, I have decided to give up on diaries, and create a blog (cunningly withholding the link from my friends). So here is my truth zone. No matter how ugly, shameful, dull, or weird, I will tell the truth about what I think and feel, omitting personal details of course.

And so, dear stranger, the first load is put out to dry....