Not that anyone I know actually reads this. And anyone I know now doesn't even know this place even exists for me. Maybe that's a good thing. There's a need within to write and not have it picked apart for hidden meaning or underlying tones. I just need to blog.
I can't keep a journal going. I buy them with intent to write religiously, but I never start. Or I write once and it goes in the back of a drawer. As a kid I wrote almost every day in a lavender journal my mom got me. Then one day I just stopped. Then my freshman year I wrote in a five subject notebook every day. Then about the middle of second quarter, I just stopped. I have both still to this day and sometimes am quite appalled at preteen and teen me. Other times, I'm floored by her insights and can't believe I forgot writing them.
For example, freshman year I wrote that I couldn't freaking stand this boy in my class. 8 years later I married him. I shouldn't have. I should have dug out that journal and read what I had wrote. Would have saved me some heartache and our daughter some pain.
Even here! I said, "Stay tuned!" And then gave nothing to stay tuned in for. Such a shameful writer I am.
So maybe every now and again I ought to just vent here. And write like I was meant to write. Lord knows, if I do that on Facebook I get people who mean well jumping down my throat.
So with that... Her Royal Pinkness, Queen Elizabeth I is back.
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