After a couple of unsuccessful tries at starting this post, I think I’ve found a vein that sticks. Coming back to this blog after so long of an absence, it feels like I’m coming back to a house full of cobwebs. One the one hand I’m ashamed I let it get this far, and on the other I’m excited to be writing again.
For a while now, I’ve been thinking of getting back into blogging. Lately, I’ve felt that urge…that feeling in your gut that you just need to get down onto paper…or in this case, the computer screen. But, I’ve held myself back. For one, what I feel like writing down wouldn’t be anything people would want to read; and even if it was, I don’t want to become a self -absorbed emotional wreck that bleeds out to the world what can only be described as depressive bullsh!t.
So where does that leave me, feeling the urge to write, but not having a purpose…a drive, a motivation to do something that could be helpful. I am left to wallow in whatever I’ve put in my bed, and by the way I haven’t made my bed in years. But perhaps, I’m overreacting. Perhaps, I just enjoy being miserable. I think my friends may be right….I might be a masochist after all.