Untold

It's one thing to write with eyes darting all across the page of your written piece, and it's another to write solely for the sake of writing -- with no eyes but yours and whoever else is meant to run across this. Yes, I implied it. I'm a great believer in that whole everything having a purpose thing. I mean, why else would it exist?

In addition to that, it doesn't matter much to me that I'm digressing with every paragraph with no conscious intentions of bringing the entry into a full circle. You know, I'm not really worried about whether I'm coherent or not. Right now, I just want to sort some things out without trying to appeal to anyone.

Lately, I've been trying to get my hands on a new journal, fresh pages, or even a new blog. I prefer the one not attached to any blogsites such as Tumblr, Wordpress, or even this, Blogspot. I hate that I'm writing here again because I've realized that nothing can beat the feedback, but despite the lack of comments, the freedom this kind of privacy offers often results with profound thoughts and realizations. Things get personal. Unfortunately, we live in a culture whose people have access to the rest of the world except to their own selves. We are so out of touch with the things Science or Google can't explain. You know, our feelings, our past, our desires for the present and future, and most of all what breaks us. It's as if we can't talk about what hurts us the most without just leaving things as that. We always have to somehow include in there that "we still got this" even if it's only used as a self-reminder and not a testimony of our strength at the moment.

Maybe that's why this post seems so down. I feel as if Threadlesswoman got blogpoisoning and is just vomiting all over the place in this bucket we like to call Blogspot. Where no one can see the mess I've made because a huge part of me is still so afraid of affirming that in others that so many things run through my mind that shake the core of my being. That scare me. That remind me that I have so much to lose if I take certain risks. That there are certain risks I have to take. There are still so many things that I hate, but love to admit because for once I can feel human off paper. You see, I want a new blog that doesn't show a list of my archives. One that doesn't have an arrow that links a reader to a previous post. But that can't be and do I know better.

I know better than to hide your past, to hide something that brings you here. I know better than to alter anything about my history. As much as what that 'previous post' reminds you of something I, for one, could no longer have, or two, have, but have no idea how to go about , it's a matter of being able to live with them that will heal, teach me how to forgive, and live life with hope.

So much for sorting these things out, I think I just reminded myself of what I already knew -- hang in there, love, love, and love.