I mean, I've lived a full life, right? Didn't I have a great childhood, filled with crazy stories. Like that one time I thought I was being kidnapped. Or when I almost drowned. My first kiss. . . I mean I have great stories, right? Wouldn't someone want to read them? Wouldn't I want to share them? So what's my problem? I don't know.
My blogging is the polar opposite of how I live my life. On here, I give it to you straight, no chaser. No smoke. No mirrors. "In real life," I keep my cards close to my chest. If you don't know, then you'll probably never know and don't need to know. That's me. But here, somehow, I bare it all. Maybe that dissonance has finally come to a head.
Are your words ever trapped in your head? How do you get them out? Do you ever wonder if you should keep on blogging?
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