Starting a blog is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now, but I found so many reasons not to, the biggest reason being that I like my privacy. I find that life is a lot easier when you don’t open up to too many people, but then again, I guess I don’t know the alternative. Another reason I put off this blogging thing is because I don’t have an outline. I don’t have a succession of entries queued up and ready to post, not entries that are relative to one another at least. A blog should have a focus, right? Every piece should be polished and ready for its gleaming showcase because, really, you’re only as good as your final draft.
I built up writing so much that I started seeing it as a task instead of an outlet. I turned the thought of it into a daunting project that I was too intimidated to approach, and so I stopped writing altogether. I wrote for school, but I didn’t write for myself. I didn’t write stories or poetry. I didn’t even have a notebook where I kept my day-to-day experiences and reflections. It used to be a necessity to write; it kept my head on straight, kept me centered. It slowed down time and brought me solace, so why did I stop?
Maybe I stopped because I was distracted by life, or maybe I was afraid of my shortcomings, or maybe I got tired of listening to myself and I lost interest in my own two cents. Does that ever happen to you? Sometimes I find myself talking too much, especially in a situation where I’m uncomfortable, and when I finally pause for a breath, I think to myself:
what are you even talking about? Shut the fuck up, Tori.