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i fear for my safety.

when i started this diary, it was really, REALLY meant to be anonymous. private. like all good diaries should be, i reckon. but i was having html problems, and couldn't figure out a way to get iota to help me without spilling the beans.

hang on this entry isn't over, i just REALLY have to go to the bathroom.

ok. back. hardly notiched i was gone, right? heh.

anyway, so i told iota what my "handle" was. and that was that. a person from my real life knew, and in turn, the whole purpose of the diary essentially died. i think i've been pretty good to turn the awareness off, as she has been to me, but we might be writing other things, perhaps things about each other (no not porn...well, maybe porn, who knows?) if we had that guarantee. NOBODY KNOWS.

i have another diary here, and i haven't started it yet. i haven't felt "it" yet - the need to go underground. (i would keep up this "public" diary, and treat the other as a paper diary, of course with an intended audience, but not a DIRECTED audience.) now i kinda feel it. partly because of socks. she would flip her lid if she found out about this. partly because we had an "issue" about putting things on the net, and partly because it's a secret that i keep from her. and i claim to keep no secrets.

and she would feel betrayed, because i would say "but it's MY diary" and she would argue "so keep a book under your mattress." but we all know books under mattresses can also be found by an audience. perhaps the one you are trying to keep it from the most.

socks could definitely find me if she wanted to. i had no clue iota would be such a success; if i knew, i would have less popular, great, creative friends! but i found her through her own popular, great, creative friend.

my other diary would have no opportunity for feedback. that would prevent the whole "community" feel that gets going in diaryland after a while. it would probably have a hidden stats counter, kind of like a piece of hair left between the pages - if it's gone, you know your mother or your brother has been snooping through your stuff.

i'm afraid of socks coming here. not because of some privacy that i would feel had been revoked, but for fear that she would be hurt. that she would misunderstand. we all have the capacity to misunderstand - and finding it would be the first thing to hurt. the realization.

i wouldn't want that at all.

and the questioning that i tend to do, the self-doubt, the doubts of our relationship - i know she feels these things, too, but she doesn't say. she doesn't say to anyone, that i know of. she would feel badly because i do say. i say to everyone and no-one at the same time.

i would have to ask her to trust me. and to know that i'm not betraying that trust by being here. the sheer numbers of people who are here...could that back me up? people in similar predicaments, people who seek a private/incredibly public forum?

the institution, the structure, shapes our thoughts. shapes our words, and filters out, funnels in. the same could be said for the institution, the structure of relationships, of people.

i am being filtered by socks. i am worried about going home, smelling of smoke, her asking me "have you been smoking??" because i have. because she doesn't want me to. because i want to. and i feel like i'm not allowed anymore, because i'm in a different institution, re-structuring my everyday life, my wants, my desires, my very behaviour.

i'll stop - i could go on forever. the stop sign is part of this institution, i'm afraid.