Well, I for one was very interested. I imagine that she feels guilty about her true desire -- that someone thoughtful and kind might read her diary and care about her.
I guess I'm like her. I have this immature fantasy that someone special will find my blog and realize that I am a unique, amazing, and special person. That person will have great clout or magical powers, and their interest in my diary will not only validate all the self-absorbed stuff I plan to write about, it will also make me truckloads of money. Now is my moment to feel guilty for my truly immature and weakly formed character.
Isn't that what the series Twilight is all about? I admit that I only read the first book but there was one theme in it that I'm certain was the key to its success. Sexy, other-worldly, unique, amazing man-creature sees the extraordinary, special, beautiful, and unique nature in an ordinary high school girl. Don't we all feel like that girl? Unless we are celebrities or narcissists, don't we all believe we are undiscovered gems -- and if only a supernatural vampire would come along, he would see past our glasses, or our plain faces, or our fat, or our flat chests (if we are female), or our average IQs to the deep, unique, spiritual beauties that we really are?
What I personally do not want is for people I actually know to read this blog. Which of course is beyond my control because I have consciously decided to be transparent and give up nearly all rights to privacy. I don't want people I know to read my blog, because l am -- like most people -- an intense, glowing, bubbling volcano of contradictions. Friends and family should not know about all the opposing forces wandering around in my Id, so unfortunately I will have to censor myself to some extent. Show some self control.
Here is comes another fantasy. My millions of adoring fans and readers have a special password that they can only get by proving that they don't know me or anyone associated with me. Then, I could write with true abandon.
Either way, I plan to come close. (Don't you know that commas are out of style)?
I once dated this guy from Northwestern University (not my husband). His ex-girlfriend was a dancer from Minneapolis. He mentioned that he had seen her in a modern dance production and that the performance was "nothing more than masturbation." Harsh. I hope he doesn't read my blog.