I’ve tried blogging so often through the years, and have killed/deleted every one. Even when physically journaling, with the intention that no one will ever read it, I’ve still found myself holding back, in the remote chance that someone would find it. So blogging online, where anyone and their mom, or worse, MY mom, could possibly find it? Unacceptable.


Ages ago, during my first relationship, my boyfriend gave me his journal to read, to know him better. It was such a ballsy move. Afterward, he told me that it was pretty much entirely written to be read, by HIS first gf, one of my closest friends. But still, the fact that he’d share it with me was so achingly meaningful.


I guess I hate blogging because I.. I described relationships once as constantly giving pieces of my heart away; some small, some quite large. And inside a relationship, hopefully, that piece would be filled by a piece of someone else. But when the relationship is over, well, we all know that feeling of having gaping holes in our hearts, in our very being, ne? Blogging, putting myself out there to be known, is too reminiscent of those feelings.


So what do I say in a blog?


I scraped a dead mouse off my bedroom floor today with a 2 foot spatula. If I ever invite you over for a backyard bar-b-que, I’ll understand if you decline. 🙂


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