(Trying out voice recordings of my posts. Let me know what you think!)
It’s just after midnight and I find myself staring at a blank blog post. Well, not so blank now, but- whatever. You get the point. Once again, I have returned to my little public sanctum in the small corner of the internet that I’ve made my home to spill my thoughts into some comprehensible form of alphabet soup so that others may read the strangeness that goes on in my head. Sometimes even I wonder…
Why should a nobody like myself bother to write my thoughts where anyone else can see them? Why bother to blog when all too often, I’m so depressed I can barely think or so anxious I can barely breathe, and that negativity comes through in my writing? Why bother to tell my sad stories instead of just writing something funny because it’s easy and happy?
I once read somewhere, though I don’t remember where, that the blogosphere is a place where a lot of people with nothing to say go to say a lot of nothing. Maybe… or maybe not.
When I discovered the blogosphere, it was my refuge. I went there to vent my thoughts where I thought my mom couldn’t possibly find them, thanks to the anonymity of the internet. Vent, I did, and with all the fiery fury the Angry Pubescent Heir to the Throne of Batshit Crazy could muster. I was an angry teen. Angry and depressed. Are you surprised? If you’ve hung out here for long, probably not.
Now that I’ve returned, I once again find refuge in the anonymity of the internet. However, it’s more than that. Every day, on the internet, new stories are shared. Some are shared by famous people, and some by little nobodies like me. The famous people obviously get the most views, but once in a rare and wonderful while, a ‘nobody’ gets noticed. Maybe they go viral. Sure, that’d be cool, but that’s not what motivates me. What motivates me is the ‘nobody’ that changes a life… or maybe just a moment.
We all have stories. We live them, day in and day out. More of us than are willing to admit it have stories that are dark and soulful and full of struggle and hard learning. Somehow, though, most of us tend to think that we are alone in our struggles. Some of us may know that others are out there, but are too afraid to share our stories for fear that the ones that don’t understand will be the only ones to read and will respond unkindly. Some of us just don’t feel like sharing. I used to be that last kind of sufferer. The one who didn’t feel like sharing. At times, it was because I was afraid, but more often it was because I was ashamed.
I’m not ashamed anymore.
As I stumbled through the internet over the years, time and again a little known blog would have a post that caught my eye, or some unknown author would write an article for an obscure publication, or some other unlikely soul would happen across my digital path and share with me a piece of their story that would touch me, sometimes very deeply. It didn’t have to be profound in order to touch me on a sometimes painfully deep level. In fact, often it was simply a story of how someone else had faced exactly the struggle I was going through at that very moment.
That is why I bother.
I have a story, too. I have lots of stories, actually, and I’m certain that no small few of them are a lot like other peoples’ stories. Other people who might not realize that they’re not alone. Other people who might need to read or hear that fact in order to believe it. Maybe even other people who just need to be reminded that it’s okay to struggle, because in struggle we learn so much about ourselves and others. If a single sentence of a single post in all my time blogging, from now to the end of my life, reaches just one person and makes them feel better or feel understood or feel a little less alone… if just one smile is made or one tear is dried by my words here, then every moment I’ve spent writing these posts is worth it.
Maybe I’ll never reach anyone. Or maybe I’ll go viral one day. Who knows. Maybe I’ll never know if I’ve touched anyone in a significant way with my words. That’s all okay. So long as there’s a chance that my words, happy or not, could help or touch someone in any appreciable way, then I will keep blogging. Sometimes I’ll be silly. Sometimes I’ll be introspective. Sometimes I’ll just be pissy, or depressed, or anxious. Always, I will be genuine. This blog has no place for lies and I’ve no place for liars in my life. This includes myself. I will always tell you, my readers, the truth in whatever I am writing. That in mind, I leave you with this, my promise to you, dear readers:
I promise to…
Always be honest; brutally if necessary.
Never shy away from the rough stuff.
Be silly now and then, just to break the monotony.
Stick with me, folks. I’ll be here all week.