by Koski

Created on: November 30, 2008

I preach and I preach to my friends and acquaintances that drug use, alcohol, and other unhealthy addictions are not worth the human body's energy or time. I assure them that everything in moderation is key, and that drawing the line in "fun" activities is a necessity for a healthy lifestyle. I sit proudly-back straight, eyes bright and insisting. I nod in all the right places, smile, and can be very persuasive.

In one sense, I am not a hypocrite. I have no interest in drinking, and the scent of marijuana mostly just makes me fall ill. Smoking cigarettes, in my opinion, is the equivalent of chewing on little rolls of watered-down death. Oh I'm very healthy...

That is, if you don't go through my favorite sites. I have five of my own blogs bookmarked. I blog at least four times a day, and during long summer days with nothing much else to do, I blog more. My parents complain that I am on the computer far too much, and I shrug. When they ask what I even do on there, I tell them quietly "I'm writing." After the twitching ceases and the parent walks away, I blog about the social encounter as if a meteor crashed into my living room, and gummy bears came crawling out.

Every single thing that happens to me ends up on one of my blogs. When I am away from a computer, I am haunted with the feeling that my brain narrates all of the actions I partake in, as well as the actions of others. It uses words like "whimsical" and "apparatus" when I normally wouldn't have the intelligence to actually say these things out loud.

The Blogger part of my brain is one of the loudest of the voices in my head, and doesn't stop with sleep. In my dreams, the narration of the plot continues. I find if I listen to it, I really learn a lot more about what's going on in the scene. My addiction to blogging has saved my life! (In the dream world.) At least, that's what I tell my therapist.

My blogging began around four years ago. I wasn't a writer yet, but I was in the stage of discovering myself. I timidly made a livejournal, feeling blindly for a whole new world of narcissism and gossip. I reached it. I blogged very infrequently at first. I didn't know what to say. I realized I needed to train my brain, and then everything that happened to me could be the latest buzz.

In order to write, I need to know somebody will be reading it. I never write for myself, except for the approval of others, perhaps. I had to imagine my best friend reading my words and hopefully enjoying them. Eventually she did start

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