I’ve had a blog for over ten years now. Prior to that, I kept journals. At times the two intersected.

I used to be very, very aware of my thoughts and I wrote down every last one of them. My bookshelves were filled with spiral-bound notebooks and composition books. In them contained EVERYTHING that passed through my brain. Although most of the things racing inside my head were confusion, frustration, and a whole lot of I-Don’t-Fucking-Understand-People, I always regurgitated them onto paper or on a computer screen.

I don’t do that anymore. I keep blog posts superficial.

But why?

Man, I was emo as fuck. No joke. I used to be that “the glass is half empty” person. I took everything and saw how it was bad. I could find the misery in anything. I had no problem writing blog posts because no one ever knew my web site even existed. Plus, at the time The Internet was still new and considered a luxury in Every Man’s home.

But then The Internet became what it is today: A necessity available to anyone and everyone. Computers are affordable. Web-enabled mobile phones are the norm. Shit, McDonald’s now boasts free wi-fi connections.

Insane.

That’s when I started to be careful about what I posted. Who knows who will read this thing? Anybody. Everybody. Stalkers. Potential employers. Nobody.

Then, I took it a step further. I shredded my journals. I did this mostly because I read somewhere that “anything written is intended to be read.” I truly believe that each and every one of us is a little fucked up one way or another and we are all a little (or a lot) crazy. But I panicked at the thought of someone else reading my crazies. These were my secrets, no one else’s.

Looking back, I am so very glad that I no longer possess the “emo-ness” that seems to plague adolescents and young-adults. But I do miss writing. I miss being able to express what I’m thinking and what I’m feeling in a way that others just might understand or relate to.

This is one of my many goals this year: Write.

The frequency will be lower, but thank God for that. My head has cleared a vast amount in the last 10+ years. Either way, I want to get back that therapeutic relationship I used to have with writing. Even though my site gets more hits than it used to since it’s birth, I need to remember who I started writing for in the first place: Me.

Here’s to me. If you don’t like it, suck my dick.