Doesn't even make sense. None of this makes sense.
I'm working extra hard on not apologizing for who I am. For forever and ever I have sat back, maybe bleeped out a thought or two, then spent the night scared out of my mind that I had said the wrong thing. That I had thought the wrong thing. That I was, indeed, the wrong thing.
It's exhausting.
One of the things I get from people is how reflective I am. My friends, my family, my professors.
So reflective.
Right now I don't see reflection as a virtue, rather a vice. It can stop me cold. Stone cold. Well, that and a glass of wine (make that white because DAMN if red gives me migraines).
I've done found a community of folks that have made me feel normal. You know how you meet new people and start to worry almost immediately that once you really show your true colors, they might run off in the other direction? I'm trying to avoid that thought process. I'm trying to not reflect on it so much.
Damnit.
I miss writing. I miss blogging.
1,495 things have happened in the past month. Things that I deem pretty important. I miss sharing those things. But.
But I get all kinds of nervous. Nervous because every once in a while I partake of the Kool-Aid that makes you think that sharing bits of you and your life to the whole world of Internet is detrimental.
I don't want to invite detriment.
Also? I don't want to hide.
