I’m not comfortable with this type of writing. I’ve not yet reached the point where I can pour myself out all over someone’s screen and not feel a way about it. That vulnerability… I’m not fond of it. Surprisingly to no one but me. But to me, that’s how the best writers really communicate in the immediate and comforting way they do. They let so many struggles, so much pain, so much despair, so much happiness and joy and love, so many tears, so much laughter, too many self-doubts and even hatred… they let that all go on paper. As much as they allow us to read. What it does for us readers is validate that they are human. The expression of those feelings really just solidify the connection between writer and reader in such a way that I’ve yet to even dare to attempt. I wish so deeply that I can even be that brave but…not yet. I haven’t grown enough.
One could argue that doing that is a key to growth, but I enjoy my privacy. I value it a lot. I value this very thin veil of anonymity that I feel keeps my mind familiar with some things about me. It influences a lot of my lifestyle and dreams. It really is just who I am. I want to be rich quietly. I want to have an amazing relationship quietly. If you happen to be one of my close friends, you undoubtedly would know about the important parts. But publicly, I don’t want to be anyone. You take the credit. You can have the spotlight. I find joy in doing things for people without them knowing I did it. I don’t want to be anyone’s hero, I just want to see you do better. I would love to be thanked here and there. But I don’t want anyone to feel like they owe me anything, but I’m willing to always do things for people because they need it. Silly?
I’m not there yet. Not sure where. But I’ve yet to reach.