I rather like using my (admittedly) numerous journals to bitch about my life, if only to keep me from doing so in real life. I live a rather charmed life, but like all (or at least most) teenagers, my hormones and easily depressive mentality keep me from fully appreciating that fact. Again, even as I try to objectively pick myself apart.
It's a strange feeling, you know? Feeling something, then immediately stepping back and analyzing where it came from, why I'm feeling it, how to stop it; then to slip back into my feelings and ruin all the objectivity I had achieved. I'm not entirely sure I like to feeling of detached-ness it inspires within