Lately, I've been making an effort not to blog about every sad moment I have. When I realized it'd been another seven weeks since he and I last "spoke," I fought the temptation to post a song that had been on my mind for days. When I wondered over the unfairness of my cousin losing her vision because of her diabetes, I didn't pour it out here. And I didn't run to you when I realized, yet again, that motherly love isn't exactly my mom's strong suit.Instead, I wrote about colored pencils and posted flowers in the wind. Things that would make me smile when I visited my page. I usually find it hard to read the sad posts I've written and once I've written one will want to desperately cover it up with happy ones. To patch up the ugly wound and make it all better - to make myself feel better. As if to say, "See? I'm ok!" [insert smiley face]
Dry As Toast has been my catch-all for practically every emotion I've felt in the past year and somehow over the course of that time, I've grown comfortable sharing every facet of myself with people I'll never get to meet. But maybe I share too much?
So I've returned to my forgotten journal, dusted it off and begun filling its pages again. Writing is my salvation and sometimes there are things I feel need not be written here. And yet at other times, I'm convinced that baring all will help someone somewhere feel a little less lost.
Where do you draw the line?
P.S. Though I must say, the decrease in sad posts on this blog also signifies a decrease in sadness in my life. Progress I suppose...