Well..I thought the last post was the break in my 'block'...but it appears it wasn't! Not that it matters. Shit comes in all sizes and I've had a colon full this year. I couldn't remember my password as it's been so long, neither could I remember the email address I used. Useless, that's me. Anyhow, I've found my way back, so for me at least, that's a good thing. I'd hate for it to be lost in cyber world and I'd hate for all the words to mean nothing.
I've been away so long that I've forgotten how it all works. I've forgotten about Twitter and I've forgotten about Facebook. It became so complicated, especially when Google decided to change its method of feeding the feeds and all of that complicated stuff so I decided I'd really had enough. Following someone because they followed me, just to get a few more views. Working out the best ways to get read and to promote the blog. For what? It really became pointless after a while. I tried to read everything everyone wrote and I became disillusioned with the whole process. The gangs, the mummy brigades, the whole works! I didn't fit in...and I wondered whether I wanted to. I wasn't sure where I was. I wasn't really anywhere except in my own real life.
There was a point to my blog, but I lost it trying to second guess what others might read. What I'm really I'm really trying to say is that I wasn't true to myself. The truth is...I'm a writer. I write for the love of writing. I'm a mother, a wife and a writer. There. I've said it. No use pretending. No use in trying to be anything else.
I've been away so long that I've forgotten how it all works. I've forgotten about Twitter and I've forgotten about Facebook. It became so complicated, especially when Google decided to change its method of feeding the feeds and all of that complicated stuff so I decided I'd really had enough. Following someone because they followed me, just to get a few more views. Working out the best ways to get read and to promote the blog. For what? It really became pointless after a while. I tried to read everything everyone wrote and I became disillusioned with the whole process. The gangs, the mummy brigades, the whole works! I didn't fit in...and I wondered whether I wanted to. I wasn't sure where I was. I wasn't really anywhere except in my own real life.
There was a point to my blog, but I lost it trying to second guess what others might read. What I'm really I'm really trying to say is that I wasn't true to myself. The truth is...I'm a writer. I write for the love of writing. I'm a mother, a wife and a writer. There. I've said it. No use pretending. No use in trying to be anything else.
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