Always Coming Back.

It’s been a long time since I’ve published a blog post. For the past several years, I haven’t been able to write the way I’ve wanted to, whether it was because I was too busy trying to get through law school, or because I had certain protocols to follow that didn’t allow for me to write the things I wanted to write. However, now, I’m in a place where I have more freedom, more time, to write, and I don’t want to sit on my desire to put words on the screen when I actually feel motivated to do so.

I’ve been a writer for a long time. My whole life, I guess you could say. When I was little, I did what I imagine a lot of kids do and I made my own books out of construction paper and crayons. A few times, I entered those books into contests and got to have them laminated and stamped with a special seal. When I got a little older, and places like MySpace and Xanga were popular, I published the most emo and angsty things you could imagine. And then I got a little bit older again and I started blogging on websites like this one, teaching myself how to make a blog and pouring over the content of other bloggers I admired greatly. The words came so easily to me when I would write, most of the time. Writing is the only thing that has ever made complete sense to me, so I always come back to it.

Whenever I sit down to write something these days, particularly something I want to share with others, I have to think about how deep, how serious, how passionate I can go, because I’m no longer a college student who can get away with saying ALL OF THE INFLAMMATORY THINGS. I’m an adult, in my late twenties, and I have a job, an important one. I also know that there are people watching, people who would relish in taking something I’ve said out of context and trying to beat me with it later. Unfortunately, it’s happened before. And yet, I always come back to it. And why shouldn’t I?

Sometimes I write things with which people, even my family and friends, disagree. I don’t think my mom and dad like it when I write and publish more personal things, because they are very private people and from a different generation than I am. I understand their point of view, but I still feel compelled to share. Because sharing allows for learning and connecting and maybe even greater understanding. Writing makes me feel less alone sometimes, and it’s incredibly cathartic. Again, it’s the only thing that makes complete sense to me. So, I do it.

And now, I sit here on a lunch break writing this, having decided that at least for the time being, it’s time for me to come back to this safe space where I can turn the many thoughts I don’t often express into words that might resonate with others. I don’t know if anyone is going to read this thing, or at least on a regular basis. But I hope some of you do. And I hope you’ll even drop me a line on one of these posts sometimes, just so I know you’re there.

We always come back to the things that make us feel like ourselves. So, here I am, again, writing in a way that makes me feel like myself again. I hope my stay is longer this time.




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