i don’t quite remember when blogging became impersonal for me.
i just know that at one point, i freely used my www space to express myself the best way i know how —through my words– uninhibited, with no mind paid to anyone’s opinion on what i chose to say. to me, it felt like home. an intimate space i could fill with my woes or my joys or to simply relieve times of boredom.
a natural Aquarian, i’ve been told time and again that i possess a sort of ‘distant intimacy’. people feel as though they know you, but not quite. this is never purposely perpetuated but i know what is meant when they say it. that’s why i always appreciated blogging. i shared myself to a degree, but still kept a lot of myself off the screen. it felt liberating to have a space where i could speak without being interrupted, drop ambiguous details without being probed with questions, and interact with people at my discretion.
written words have long been my best form of communication. though my tongue is somewhat catching up with the eloquence my pen holds, i still prefer to write my thoughts rather than speak them.
this affinity for written language has caused me a lot of grief over the years. from my mother finding a very private journal in high school, to my then boyfriend finding a similar one in college. when an incident like that happens, it complicates your relationship with the pen and pad, with your willingness to express. it was like an intruder had broken in and stolen the only proof i had that i could actually shift through my always conflicting feelings and construe them into something that made sense to me.
i received a text message a couple weeks ago that read something like “didn’t know you had a blog. it’s dope! spent the whole night reading.”
i should’ve taken this as a compliment. it’s always nice to know someone enjoys my writing. this person though, (along with a few other people who have expressed similar sentiment), is too close for comfort. my space has once again been invaded. my journaling cut short by an unintentionally stifling head over my shoulder waiting to see what i have to say.
that said, i know it appears that i’m failing fantastically at the #30in30 challenge. i am not. today i was alarmed to discover that currently, i have 7 completed drafts of posts that felt great flowing from mind to fingertips, but stopped just short of being published.
because sometimes what i want to blog, i don’t want people to read.