I wonder sometimes: Why it is that we are drivin to journal our innermost thoughts? Is it the vain attempt to capture our conciousness (sic) in a certain frame of being or is it to bring ourselves into the blind fury that is and was and every shall be the crucible by which we are ourselves judged? Is it that we seek succor from our future selves when all known compassion for our present selves is extiguished by virture of our preception of progress, as witnessed by our ostrification(sic) of ou