Nothing special

I owe more to my writing, as well as the important people in my life. Each time I write one of these entries, I re-read it and feel grossly unsatisfied. It’s not quite what’s in my heart. Close, but not close enough. I can’t seem to figure out if I should focus more on one particular idea, or find a way to examine a broader realm of ideas with more elaboration. I still have almost eleven months worth of writing to try and get it nailed down. In a way, it almost doesn’t feel like it’ll be enough time.

I’m highly satisfied with my reader base so far. I assume many of them are at least somewhat entertained by my daily excerpts. I will defend it to the day that I die, that writing is one of the best forms of therapies. It doesn’t have to be public in nature. It can be extremely personal and meant for no one else’s eyes except your own. That being said, I’ll try to respond or thank anyone for comments or a follow on my blog, but if for any reason I don’t, please don’t think I don’t completely appreciate it.

I told my aunt about some things that happened in my childhood that I’ve managed to shovel away for years and years. I don’t think I have ‘issues’ because of it, but I know that the person I am has been influenced by these certain things that have happened. A suggestion from her was to write down my deepest darkest thoughts on anything and everything that is bothering me. No limits. Then when I’m done… Burn it. Let me tell you, it works. Not that I’m completely healed and am a totally different person, but I’m no longer afraid of what I think of myself because of things I really had no control over.

I ran into an old co-worker today and the response from the question of the day was ‘eh, not bad but could be better.’ I only caught an assumption of what could be less than perfect in their life and to be honest, it doesn’t even matter. I didn’t have much of an opportunity to try and help out, but if I had a chance to really influence this person, I’d suggest writing. Write for themselves, or other people or maybe even complete strangers. What you write doesn’t even have to make sense. Some of mine barely make sense to me.

Tonight’s blog is not entirely what’s on my mind, but it’s something I’m digging out as a guidepost to help me focus my thoughts on the greater things in life. I wish to share more of who I am, but until I work through the confusion I have to work at the surface. It’s not just stories that I have from my past, but more so moments that make me realize that we are all here for our own purpose. Regardless of what my purpose is here, I know that I’m dying to find out more. Some of the things I’ve experienced in this life has given me more than words could ever express. What’s exciting, is I’ve experienced those things without even feeling like I deserve it. What’s going to happen if I actually try?


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