I kind of don’t know where to start.
I put off writing because so much time has passed, so many moments missed, so many details I wanted to share but didn’t have time to. Or maybe I had the time but didn’t trust myself to use the right words. To keep things positive, to express all the good times.
See, I write for me. I write to alleviate the stresses and difficulties so that I can keep on keeping on. So most of my journals are filled with disasterous moments, horrible thoughts, deep down dark secrets that I never want to reveal.
But it’s only because it helps me cope. And then I can excuse myself from those negative thoughts and get on to take care of things, to keep moving and breathing and living.
So I sometimes feel conflicted about writing on this blog. I sometimes worry that essentially all I’m doing is COMPLAINING. But it’s how I process things. I am not much concerned with the number of hits I get or the number of views or the comments I receive. What I love, though, is that very thing. Just the fact that someone took the time to read what I’ve written, and to sometimes have a real person, someone out there who is feeling the same feelings I am, reach out, sometimes from millinos of miles away, just to say, “I understand.”
Now that I’m writing, I want to post and post and post as I do. I’m sure I’ll again go on hiatus. But I’ll always come back. And I’ll always appreciate the friendships I’ve made through blogging. I know you’ll accept me back. Because you always do.