delet

I'm reading James Baldwin again and it makes me want to use proper capitalization in my writing. When did I become so lazy/does it even matter? He wrote about a black void opening at the moment that the life of his character went awry, but then, never being able to determine from the past when that actual moment occurred. I found my old blog today, or rather, I decided to look at it (I have always know that it is there, this spectre of a former way of being, a dark way, a simply terrifying way of being) and went through it like a bone knife. I came away all bloody. It is hard to relate to the things that I wrote there now... I guess I just felt the need for attention, so badly, so much. I was hardly able to see outside of that need, and rarely looked through it with any clarity. I wanted to translate my misery into this form that could bring me some delight, that could be commanded, given validity. I was too free with that pain, and it flooded a space that affected others. There is a comment that haunts me, that I was unable to find there, but which still sticks me sometimes with it's icepick. Chilling memory, chilling influence. It brings me pain to think that there is a spectre out, shaking somewhere in the internet, breathing somehow, weirdly, publicly, still poisoning things just to poison them. Still bleeding a wide swath over things, engrossed in self-hatred, and cutting away at any good. I can't bear it, I have to delete it, I am trying to communicate with the blog service to help me find a way in so that I can get rid of it, or at least remove it from the possibility of ever being found by someone again.