I started writing blog posts a few years before I actually started this blog. I had a file in Word called “If I Had a Blog” and wrote on it whenever I had something to say that couldn’t be put into a short story or poem. It was my way of processing the world. It was how I wrote about thoughts, ideas, problems, solutions, and revelations in my life.
And, recently, I realized that I still do that. Every single post on here is part of myself, a little sliver I’m divulging to the world. I once told myself I wrote so other people could hear my voice, but I’ve noticed now that I don’t do simply that, or rather, it’s not the true reason why I write this blog each week. I write to process the world around me, to understand why things are the way they are.
Writers say that the reason their job is so hard is because they write their soul into the world and hope it doesn’t get crushed.
I’d have to agree. Unknowingly, I wrote myself I into the world. I let loose things in my blog post I would never say out loud. I opened up myself to the world and hoped that it would open itself up to me. And I didn’t even know I was doing it. All along, I had convinced myself that I was only writing to share my ideas with the world.
So, I want to thank you, reader, world, whomever it may concern, for reading my posts each week or every now and then. Thank you for accepting at my barest, most honest self. Thank you for letting me open myself up to the world via the best way for me: writing.
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This poem is part of the “I am a writer” posts, which can be found here. To see all posts, click here.
Categories: I am a writer