D says any prospective girlfriend who read my blog would run in the opposite direction, so I shouldn't write so much about feeling blue and missing G. I told D she may be right and I should take this site down, so as to preserve the full potential of my beautiful future.
But when I actually logged in tonight, the urge to purge evaporated. I am feeling possessive over my words, my past. Honesty and a love for pretty phrases are enough to stay the executioner's axe. So what if I have moments of depression and desperation? Is that not natural? Does it make me a bad catch? A risky bet? A struggling company that no one wants to invest in?
D also said my blog has been less personal since I became conscious of my readership. It is true, I am torn between spilling my guts in the raw, and the diluting factor of those many eyes, to which I present many faces. From all walks of life, you gather here to peer into my soul. Yet I proudly wear my heart on my sleeve, and blurt out late-night passages of sadness and regret... I wield these sharp and honest words against an uncaring world, and I can only hope the actors of my beautiful future will look past these dangerous confessions to the passionate soul within... waiting for the right look, the right moment, to take tangible shape on centre stage...
Writing is bound up with solitude and introspection. I write when my heart and mind are tied in knots. When I am happy, I am consumed by the moment, and surrounded by friends, I live in the beauty of a laugh, that simple effervescent feeling, so removed from the heaviness of the literary world where everything is inscribed, as if in stone. No, blogging does not cross my mind when I can sense the wonderful things ahead of me. It's only when I'm alone at home, struggling with inner demons that I turn to the net to share my woes. By casting my dark thoughts out into the world, I feel more understood, and less burdened by sorrow. I cry on your virtual shoulder!
But please understand, I am not pining away in the hope of reconciliation or revenge. I am waiting for you, the star of my future, to come light up my life.
An intimate scrapbook documenting the trials and tribulations of nereis, our intrepid nematode at large (and a somewhat inconsistent blogger)
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