And Seven Posts Later…

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.


  1. OMG!!!! this post is pretty much everything. everything. i feel you. i don’t write for a living. i write because it makes me feel good. and then my dad discovered my blog. and started commenting. and asking questions. no. i became very familiar with the drafts box. and still am. i miss blogging like nobody that i know is reading

  2. “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.”

    I never understood when people do things like this. Sure you found a notebook with thoughts in it but do people have that little self-control as to not reading what they found. It’s really easy to not see something on purpose and people do it all the time. So when this happens I label it nothing more than an intentional violation of someone’s thoughts. I hate that sh*t!

    My draft box is backed up like a busy airport. I have no excuses other than the muck in between my ears but that is another comment.

  3. i really liked this post. it shows the hard balance of being a writer and being a person.
    but at the end of the day, the challenge was to write – as long as you are doing that..that’s all that (should) matter!

  4. I can totally relate to this. Sometimes I write something, purposely vague, and the people in my life question me about it later. It’s like they don’t get that, even though they know me and we may be somewhat close, there is a limit to my sharing and that was it. I have lots of drafts too🙂 Ironically, I have never kept a journal. I’ve always been afraid someone would find it. So I’m trying to make sure I don’t make the blog my journal, while still being as real as possible. I think I read something recently where it’s difficult for artists because audiences begins to feel like they own you or have a right to your work. Kudos to you for keeping your private thoughts private! As long as you’re writing, you’re still winning!

  5. oh, that is so true. and I guess we have to be a little bit careful about what we say and who we adress… on the other side it’s so bad that this will hem us in our writing. but well… for me only pseudonyms can be the solution.

  6. I completely relate as well. that’s one of the reasons I’m not blogging – if anyone I know reads it, will it still be mine? Will I play to the crowd? Will I, conversely and egotistically, be bummed if NO ONE is reading it or relates to me? At some point I’ll stop overthinking and just. dive. in.

  7. I recently experienced an issue where my adult (older) sister found a journal of mine while snooping around my apartment. She had the audacity to tell me that she found it and to tell me to correct the spelling of a word. I felt so violated and did not understand why she felt that it was okay to read my journal.

    So I do understand where you are coming from with your feelings. I have the urge to blog and to vlog about my life and different personal journeys that I am currently undertaking, but I have hesitated for the very reason of someone I know finding my stuff online.

Say it loud, say it proud... just not in all caps.

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