No Really, I’m Fine.

It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it? I haven’t written since August and before that it was April. 20-16 must have been the year of writers block or something. I’ve had my fair share of Twitter rants and wonderings so I’m still in the game. I think I struggle most with what the purpose of this blog is supposed to be, if any. Does it need a purpose? Probably not. But since when do I do something for no reason? Never.

At it’s core, I just want to leave my stamp in the world. Years from now when memories fade or when my children, niece and grandchildren want to know more about me or how I was or how I felt or thought or dreamt or lived.. I want them to have something to refer to coming from me. Not some folklore story (like I even have any haha!) where moments were altered because the game of telephone was never that good of a game to begin with. I want someone, somewhere to be able to break all my ramblings down and be like “..she was something else. She thought differently, she understood life on a different level than others.” Something I’ve been trying to figure out for all of 27 years and I still really can never find anyone like me. Not that I really want to, I suppose. I like being me. (On the inside. The outside is another issue, self-esteem related obviously.) But it would be nice to have a “me” in my life if that makes any sense.

Of course, not everything and everyone has or will be in this blog. That’s the funny thing and maybe that’s why I have an issue with continuing this writing rambling. What’s the point if it’s only full of half of the story? I learned my lesson years ago from airing out my dirty laundry on this blog. A time in my life when I was reaching out for something, just needing to get things off my chest and be heard but the people that actually read my posts were the very ones I didn’t want to read them. No one really ever gave a shit or tried to understand what was going on in my life in those very moments of need. Lectures have never solved problems. Such is life and I lived.

Since then, I’ve had times that have come and passed without even a blink on this blog. Feelings of self-doubt and hatred. Body issues, moral dilemmas, pure livid wtf moments.. Pain, joy, death. And feelings of nothing. I’ve spent hours binge watching my favorite shows over and over. Reading stories and blogs on purpose with the intent to either cry or laugh, however I feel like feeling that day. I feel it all, just like everyone else, but I just don’t feel like there is a legit way to share anymore. You always run the risk of a co-worker or boss or friend seeing what you’ve written and they immediately jump. Instantaneously¬†pass some kind of weird judgement as if they really really know you when all it was was a blip in your day that you just needed to write about. No biggie.

I’ve wanted to tell you so much but in a world of over-sharing, I just can’t. Any story that I have ever told or will ever tell will always be carefully arranged. It’s time to read between the lines.

Too-ta-loo.

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