Sometimes I feel like stopping my writing.
I always mention that I started this blog for others, and this is true, but sometimes I write and I feel like I’ve been here before. And I run the risk of repetition. And the risk of losing the interests of my readers, who I adore.
And then, other days I feel like writing up a storm. As if I’m on the roof telling I’m a sadist. One neighbour might think I’m nuts, the other night think she needs a sadist in her life and where have I been all this time?
I think it’s my anxiety. Anxiety puts thoughts in my head that are false but seem real. The saying goes, the best saying I found, is ‘You are your own worst enemy’ and isn’t this the truth? How much of our time is spent not writing to each other? Or not writing on our blogs?
A few blogs I follow, a few wonderful ladies that have been so kind and gracious, have been inactive. Maybe it’s life, maybe their anxiety. But it’s sad because their presence was unique, as each spirit is unique.
So why do I write? I write for you ladies and gents. Because I want to help, or inform, or arouse. Because I like sharing my stories, my little silly or dark or weird thoughts because I take comfort in the fact that its shared. And I guess I write because I thirst for new adventures, new ideas and concepts and new people to help or inform or arouse.
Maybe I write because I can’t stop. So maybe you shouldn’t stop either. Write. Write a blog. Write to me. Keep writing. Never stop.