I had written a poem titled "madness monologues" once. At that time, i thought these random ramblings of mine are no better than spurts of frustrations/exertions that needed to be exorcised and purged within myself.
I don't know if i still feel this way. Perhaps so. Even not, the title is apt for now, since Madness is relative and Monologues are exactly what these postings are.

I had just remarked to you that these online journals are a good idea. It both satisfy the exhibitionist and private creature within a person. There is always something to be said yet not always to be heard. I must admit i wanted people to listen to me, yet many a times i wouldn't have to guts to spit it out. The idea that someone somewhere who knows me will read these words trills and worries me. It is a feeling that makes me feel very much alive once more.