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Tuesday, January 19, 2016

blog log

There is something about the thought of writing something for people to read that makes me not want to write. The thought of someone I know, or don't know reading my words, and the fear of judgement, turns me into a bit of a cookie cutter. A persona and not a person. I know there is a part of me in these posts but I think it's mostly between the lines.

But the thing is I've never committed anything to writing without thinking 'but what if someone were to read this' - not one letter to myself, one journal entry, one email has been completely honest. I've censored myself so much that I am not even sure which thoughts are my own. I guess that sounds extreme but there is truth to it.

Maybe instead of a flowery version of my thoughts I should try to write fiction. Maybe in that mindset, I would be less afraid of judgement and free to tell things as I see them. I love reading fiction and memoirs. I love other peoples thoughts. I am much more comfortable with them than my own.

When I read a post I've written which includes some touching thing that happened on a subway ride, I feel almost uncomfortable. I can remember the moment, but my writing never seems to truly translate the feelings I had at the time. In an attempt to convey connection and meaning, I think I end up sounding like a washed up self help writer. A cheesy motivational poster. I think I stopped writing because maybe I'm a bad writer.

It's the beginning of a new year and without sounding too phony, I am going to try to be more honest, with my writing and with myself.

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