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I've occasionally wondered why I still come here. Not in some dramatic, stare-out-the-window-while-it-rains kind of way. Nothing that fucking profound. I mean literally, why do I still click the bookmark? VampireRave has been around long enough that entire chunks of my life have happened while this place sat quietly on the internet doing whatever the fuck it is that we do here. People came. People left. Some came back. Some changed names twenty-one times and pretended nobody knew who they were. Friendships happened. Relationships happened. Wars were fought over things nobody involved could explain six months later. And somehow, every now and then, I still wander through the door.

I think I've finally figured out why. You people entertain me. That's it. That's the revelation. Sorry if you were expecting something deeper. VR is a little like walking into the same dive bar you've been visiting for years. You recognize some faces and don't recognize others. Somebody is sitting in their usual corner. Somebody else is loudly telling a story you've heard before. Two people aren't speaking to each other because of something that happened in 2014. Someone is mad. Someone is horny. Someone is writing poetry. Someone has discovered the secrets of the universe. And somebody, somewhere, is full of shit.

That's usually where I come in.

I don't go looking for it. Okay, that's not entirely true. Sometimes I absolutely go looking for it. But most of the time all I have to do is read. Eventually somebody will say something stupid, hypocritical, cruel, or so completely detached from reality that I have to read it twice just to make sure I didn't accidentally have a stroke halfway through the paragraph. Then I have a decision to make. I can keep scrolling like a normal, emotionally mature adult, or I can open my journal. We all know how that usually turns out.

The thing is, most of the time I'm not saying anything particularly revolutionary. That's part of what makes it funny. Half the people reading it were already thinking the same fucking thing. They just weren't going to say it. Maybe they don't want the drama. Maybe they're friends with the person. Maybe they don't care. Maybe they possess that little voice in the back of their head that says, *This isn't worth getting involved in.* I have that voice too. He's just frequently outvoted.

So I say it. Then someone gets pissed. Somebody else laughs. The pissed-off person writes three thousand words explaining why they absolutely do not care what I think, which is always helpful because I might have otherwise mistaken their silence for indifference. That's probably the funniest part of being an internet troll. People think the troll's objective is winning. Winning what? There are no prizes here. Nobody is mailing me a trophy because somebody rage-posted at two in the morning. I'm not trying to convert anyone. I'm certainly not trying to become a better person. I'm entertaining myself.

Sometimes that means making fun of something ridiculous. Sometimes it means pointing out hypocrisy. Sometimes it means stepping into something genuinely ugly because somebody is being abusive and everyone else has apparently decided staring at their shoes is the appropriate response. And sometimes I just stir the shit. No noble justification. No greater purpose. I saw the stick. I saw the pile. I had some free time. Life is complicated like that.

What I find particularly interesting is how quickly people's opinions about trolling change depending on where I'm pointing. Make fun of someone they hate and CitizenX is fucking hilarious. Call out somebody they already have a problem with and it's *finally, somebody said it.* Post the thing everyone has been whispering privately and it's *fucking X.* But eventually the wheel turns. It always does.

Because I don't have a team. I have people I like.

There is a difference.

There are people I dislike, people I respect, people I don't, and people I barely know beyond recognizing the name attached to whatever nonsense I'm currently reading. But nobody gets a fucking diplomatic passport. Friendship doesn't magically make stupid shit intelligent. Liking someone doesn't make hypocrisy less hypocritical, and disliking someone doesn't automatically make them wrong. That's where people sometimes get confused. They think because I went after somebody they don't like yesterday, I've enlisted in their little war.

No.

I just thought they were being an asshole yesterday.

Tomorrow might be your turn.

Hell, next week it might be mine. I've certainly supplied enough material over the years. Friend or foe, everyone can become a journal. That's not a threat. It's practically the terms of service.

And strangely, I think that's part of why this remains fun for me. I'm not maintaining a character who has to be right. I'm not protecting some carefully constructed reputation. I don't need everyone here to like me. Jesus Christ, imagine the workload. I'm CitizenX. Some asshole on the internet who occasionally walks into the room, looks around, points at something, and says, *Are we seriously pretending this isn't fucking ridiculous?*

Sometimes the answer is apparently yes.

That's when things get entertaining.

I suppose someday I'll stop clicking the bookmark. Maybe the place disappears first. Maybe I simply stop finding any of this amusing. Maybe one day I'll achieve enlightenment, become a mature and responsible adult, and realize there are better uses for my time.

That would be unfortunate.

Until then, I'll probably keep wandering in, reading, watching, laughing, occasionally shaking my head, and every so often encountering something so profoundly fucking stupid that somewhere inside my head that familiar little voice will whisper, *Don't.*

And another voice will answer, *Oh, absolutely.*

Then the journal opens.

Some traditions are worth preserving.