Truth be told, I first started this blog as a means to create an outlet for myself. I was going through some difficult times, like the rest of the world, and knew that my happiness could be found, if not created through putting together words, sentences, paragraphs, stories.
It was shaky at first.
I was nervous to approach my laptop. What do I say? What do I want to say? What if I say the wrong thing? While the what-ifs buzzed around my already congested mind, my computer screen sat empty and would stay that way for quite some while. What was this deficiency in my ideas? Usually I cannot stop writing. It comes as naturally as breathing to me. But this time, for some reason, it was different.
So I began slowly.
I also began guarded. The topics that I chose to write about covered up my true sentiments. The words that came out of my finger tips did not match the words in my heart. I knew this and withstood the cognitive dissonance knowing that I was not true to myself.
Why write if it is not the truth?
Why express when it is fake?
It is like becoming acclimated to hot bath water. At first it is painful, excruciating at times. The hot water sends goosepimples all over your body and you feel like hopping out of the tub, chagrin at your blatant waste of water. But, after waiting a few seconds, you no longer feel uncomfortable. Your body temperature and the temperature of the bath are similar, allowing you to ease into comfort.
Perhaps I did not ease into writing or blogging the way that I would ease into a bath, per se.
Perhaps I eased into my own skin and my own soul.
I allowed myself to talk of the troubles, dark thoughts, hopes, whimsical musings, observations of the world, short stories, poetry. It was all going so swimmingly until I realized that there were others out there in the cosmic void of the internet world reading. Reading my words. Reading my feelings. Even agreeing with me.
For quite a while, blogging to me was shouting down a long, empty corridor and feeling the pleasure of the echoes of my own voice jump back at me. I would blissfully enter this hallway and with no reserve shout about whatever came to mind. Never would I have imagined that one day I would hear a voice that was not my own.
I am dealing with a bit of stage fright because of it all.
Maybe it comes with my naturally self-effacing constitution. Maybe I feel a bit embarrassed by my ramblings. Maybe it cause a little bit of pressure that was not there before. Suddenly, I find myself caring about the number of likes and the amount of other bloggers following me. While wonderful that I have inspired others and provided entertainment through my words, I find that I have interpreted this attention as another means to be shy.
I find myself without any words.
This blog started out with no mission. It has no purpose or goal. It is just me. Talking about the things in my life.
Perhaps it is changing because I am changing.
I may be an internationally recognized blogger, or I may have 10 readers. Either way, I will have to press on without reserve or putting on airs.
It was me and my words that got attention, for they are true and of the heart and my gift to the world.