The more I write, the more people ask me why. I write for an emotional outlet. I publish because I can.
I write for myself.
When I write, I write it all for me. The ugly, the pretty, the happy, the sad, the opinionated, the trashy. It’s a relief to get it all out on paper, or my computer.
I edit for you.
I follow many blogs and I know what I like to read. I don’t want it to be too long because it’s boring, or too choppy because it gives me mental whiplash. I don’t want every detail of my life out there, but I also want you to understand the reasons for my posts. I edit carefully.
What I write.
I write what I know. I write what I feel. Life is hard and everyone is fighting their own battle. It could seem like a tiny problem to you, but to them it’s everything. I write mine down because they are all consuming, and I know I’m not the only one.
I publish to motivate.
I find a lot of people can relate to the situations I am going through. I want you to see me for who I am. I also want you to take a lesson or two from what you read. If you read something that’s embarrassing or stupid, learn from my mistakes and don’t repeat them in your life. If you think I’m writing about you, maybe you can see how your actions influence my life.
Months ago, I asked my sister if I should publish. I specifically told her I was terrified about the people who I know will judge me, or tear me down, or make fun of me. She told me, “fuck them.” I know who all you haters are, and I also write in spite of you.
I’m terrified every time I hit the publish button.
I wonder if I should publish more or less. I wonder if I should pick a new way to go about this. I wonder if I should be less open. Then I remember how many people have said so many wonderful things to me about it, and encourage me to keep going.
Thank you for urging me to continue. Thank you for taking time to read, not only about my life, but deep into my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
I appreciate you.