Thanks to H.E.R.D. for the help!
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Yeah some parents don’t get boundaries
That was why I would write online… since they don’t use it much… but I’d still hold back
I feel this so hard
How timely
oh boy! the cursed phrase as last! “i own all what you have because you are in my house”
Robin go to your gf’s house , your mother can go fuck herself.
this is invasion of privacy! and no one has the right to do it!
your house, FINE but MY ROOM and my stuff! you have no power over them! and in case you want to play OVERLORD, i’ll just gather my stuff and leave you for good! and in case i died for whatever bloody reason, or let’s say disowned your cursed existence YOUR HOUSE YOUR PROBLEM not mine!
you can’t cross the privacy line! we are already dealing with enough social anxiety , and extreme disrespect for ourselves is on over doze!
then you come along to give it all a boost! FANTASTIC YOU CAN’T EVEN TRUST YOUR OWN BLOODY FAMILY! .. thanks a lot!
Who writes a physical diary in 2020? I think reading phone inbox/outbox or email is a better example. In this case, Robin could’ve left her laptop or phone unlocked when going to the restroom. Of course the setting of this particular comic could be 2002 or something.
It is very common to still write in physical notebooks. It gives a very different and more personal feeling to write the good ol’ fashioned way in something you can hold in your hand
I do, actually. But nobody reads it, and I’m not sharing it.
Not the ONLY reason. Just one that’s easy to use for demonstration.
Sometimes, parents are so afraid that their children might get into trouble, that they cause more trouble than they prevent. It’s a thin line…
Having flashbacks to when I kept a diary on the family computer as a password-protected Word doc and my dad cornered me in the bathroom and wouldn’t let me out until I told him the password. 😐
Damn, I’ve blocked out some traumatic shit apparently.
This is why i stopped writing diary when i was a teen.
Don’t write anything anyways
I’m in my 40’s, so back in the day it was a diary and notes we passed. My mom is a narcissist. She gave me no privacy. I told mine, as long as I could trust them, they’d have all the privacy in their world. My daughter is 17 and my son is 21. I never had to invade their privacy. They’re good kids.
I purposefully wrote in a code language so if they came across anything they couldn’t merely go about reading it.
This brings back horrible memories. I used to keep diaries all the time because writing is a passion of mine and it made me feel good, but once I started feeling depressed and writing those thoughts (as well as more “grown up” thoughts), I started buying diaries with locks on them. Well, my sister has always been one to do horrible stuff to me (she and my mom are partners in crime with that; both are narcissists) and so, one day, she decides to break open my most recent diary. She reads it and tells my mother about it all. Now, you’d think they’d be concerned about all the “depression” thoughts I was having, but instead I was lectured about being “too adult”. I was about 14 when this happened, mind you, and you know how teens can be curious. My mom was never too nice or affectionate to me, but I was suddenly more of an outcast than usual, being called a pervert. I still own that diary, and looking back, nothing in it was to the degree she was overreacting about. However, I know I developed strong trust issues and shame about sex and my body from this. I also stopped keeping a diary because I felt nothing could be personal, anymore. Like my thoughts didn’t belong to me. This was really before the internet and all that, so I couldn’t just “write on your computer” or anything yet, though I do that, now. Password-protected, lol.
It really makes me wonder, even with their best intentions (though some parents have kids, seemingly, just to torture them), if parents are the biggest causes for a lot of the issues we develop. And, unfortunately, for a lot of us, we’ll never be able to address it because, if your mom is like mine, she’ll just tell you “don’t dwell on the past” or guilt you by saying, “everyone’s always saying something is my fault; I just did the best I could”. For some parents, I seriously doubt they did the best they could.