Sometimes I worry that what I post here on this blog, this place where my thoughts become tangible, is not good enough. I worry that it's not inspiring enough. Or artistic enough. Or real enough. I was thinking this today as I stared at my computer screen no knowing what to write, but knowing...No. Feeling, that I should.
But here's what I realized:
Who cares? Honestly, why does it matter? Who cares who reads this?
As much as I love and appreciate you, my dear dear readers, in the end I'm not writing for you. Believe me, outside of the blogging world I'm a very far cry from selfish ninety percent of the time, but here and now, in this place where no one can touch me, I'm doing this for me.
And yeah, I really truly hope that somehow, someday someone identifies with my words the way I've identified with different writers who, although they've never met me, just get me.
But until then, this is me. I may not always say what you want or need to hear, or rather write what you want or need to read, but maybe, just maybe, someday what I say will be exactly what you need to get through the day or get you back on your feet or just keep you dreaming. (Oh, the beauty of dreaming...)
So I guess really, if I'm being honest, that's why I write.
Always,
L.A.
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