This is amazingly worded and amazingly close to how I feel about people who know me in the “real world” seeing into me. I am unusually honest here. Because I am, I find writing here a cathartic release. Because I am, I ALSO find writing here trippy and terrifying when the thought of being seen unmasked pops up. Concept is beautifully captured in this post. Please check out her blog.
I have blogged now for 13 years. Before that, I journaled and have a very colorful and private and horrifying collection of my written words from the time I was 13. Pictures. Collages. Every color pen under the rainbow. Things that would trip you out – before and after drugs. Dream recollections that would seem brand new if I had the courage to ever read any of that again.
I dread it. I dread looking back at what I have said. I dread hearing myself recorded, or seeing myself on a screen in front of me. It’s like a tidal wave of every kind of spider crawling at me as fast as they do. I mean I’m talking serious fright here.
When I got online, I pledged to keep no secrets. To bare my soul to the internet and see what would happen. It wasn’t about how many or how…
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