For my own sake and others I should probably say "goodbye my internet friends forever" at this point and stop, but I'm compulsive, so that's not happening.
I was a consistently good writer when I had a deadline and got paid for my work. LJ is a sketchbook where I can dump words and rearrange them and play around without getting it perfect and trying to sell it, but it's 'also a broadcast medium where anyone who happens by can read it and judge me by it. The combination of these things makes me look like even more of a self-indulgent dick on the Internet than I'm capable of in person; I'm Dorian Grey but my portrait is out in public. I offend or piss off several people a week now, and they're usually right.
When I look closely at my work, follow a few style rules, and think twice about everything I can turn out decent chunks of prose and get less hate mail. But it's easier just to dump my id into the funnel and keep moving.
I bet if I ever get loose of this crapload of neuroses, illnesses, brain malfunctions, and life blockage this thing gets burnt like a teenage diary.