Sitting outside tonight amongst the lush fauna, listening to the rain pour onto the cedar deck.
So this is fall…
I can hear raindrops falling hard into a plastic bucket in some obscure spot in the distance. It hits loudly, frantically and my heart beats with it anxiously.
I feel sad today. Maybe it’s this weather, maybe it’s because I overslept or maybe it’s because work hasn’t been great, but I feel bummed and on the verge of tears. I’m sick of working so hard, I’m sick of busting my ass. The good news is I’m nearly at my savings goal. The bad news is I’m fairly miserable. Thank God I have New Zealand in my near future to look forward to.
I have so much in my life to be grateful for (where do I even begin?) I need to focus on these positive aspects of my life.
Last night I had a bit of a panic attack… On my blog stats I noticed that my posts were getting a lot of views, but very few visitors meaning those who were viewing my blog were doing so several times a day. This horrible image popped into my head of people who knew me laughing at my blog and showing their friends. I write under a pseudonym so that I can speak honestly and openly about my personal life without fear of embarrassing my family or losing a potential job over it, but that being said if someone in this town were to read my blog it’d be pretty obvious who I am and where I live. I don’t want my identity to be an absolute secret, I just want to protect my friends and, to an extent, my reputation. What scares me is the thought of ridicule. It’s a fear that’s held me back in the past with writing and it continues to haunt me. I love keeping this blog. It’s a means for me to express myself and if a few people read it (and who knows, maybe even like it) then that’s just a bonus. Maybe I’m not where I’d like to be career wise, maybe I don’t have a portfolio like those that I graduated with, but I’ve finally started writing again and thats a huge step for me. Then I thought:
So what if someone reads this and laughs at me or thinks I’m crazy or weird. Fuck them and the horse they rode in on.
I’ll never stop being me and if someone doesn’t like it, then adios bitches! I’m out of here in 62 days.