I find the nakedness of blogging really preventative sometimes. Many people who know me have started reading my blog somewhat regularly and it’s left me with a bad taste in the mouth.
I like that people read my work, but I also find myself wanting to write about these people. Perhaps, I’ve made this blog too confessional, too ‘this is my life and now let me comment on what’s happened’.
It’s not really that I have always wanted to shit on people. It’s that I made this blog to help me, to help my life and I don’t think I’ve figured out this symbiotic side to myself.
I find this place is like bouncing board for ideas. If I can’t stop thinking bout a girl, it could be beneficial to write about her here. But, it could also lead to this bouncing board of yours being as real as you are. That’s where the tricky side to this endeavour comes in, I can’t control how other people read what I write.
I could simply create a fictional entity, a version of myself who leads some life I’ve come up with. Such an idea has potential but I have the sneaking suspicion that anyone trying to write in that way would become inseparable from this creation of theirs and have some sort of identity crisis like all vloggers will in ten or so years.
But I also think that anything I could ever create does not even compare to the emotions of a person I care for. I would cut off the proverbial arm that is this blog is it ever looked like it would infect the real me.
I just don’t know the signs of the takeover yet.