Lana feels

I debate putting up a diary site on which I would write my stories. The things that I catch myself wanting to say that are not true, the silly over-exagerated details of my life-that-isn't-real, the things that go on behind the facial expressions that the rest of the world sees. I have an insanely overactive fantasy life. When I was younger there were times when I couldn't tell them apart. Amy and I, we were good like that. We talked about the things that really happened and the things that we only pondered the happenings of in the same breath, the same tone. There was no difference as far as we cared. That's changed, as it must as childhood fades and what we say starts having meaning. Perhaps not great importance, but meaning enough that it needs to be true in a proovable sense. But I still have these thoughts, these crazy what-if-I-did-this fantasies, usually just little things that would mean nothing but that keep me occupied. The imagined reactions of others interest me more than the actions themselves. What would he or she say if I... I would like to write these down. Construct for myself an imaginary existence tied by only the loosest knots to my own. We shall see.