There's a difference between writing because you need to let things out, and writing because you want people to know what you're thinking.
I think that's why my blogging has been abandoned.
Attention and comments are irrelevant. Ultimately, only what YOU think of your own life is what matters. If you're putting your thoughts out there for sympathy: good luck. Everyone has their own dose of misery to contend with. Advice... ...advice can be merely empty words if it doesn't speak to you, or if you truly believe your own take on your woes is unique to the woes of anyone else, or their take on them.
Holy fuck, am I a different person than when I first started this blog.
I like me.
I think I'm a wonderful person.
I long for the day when I live like I believe it.
I'm so close I can swat at it, and watch it tether from the impact.
I'm getting tattoos. One on the underside of each forearm. The left arm: Sasta. The right arm: Amhain. It's Gaelic for "Happy Alone". It is my mantra, and my resolve.
Though I may not be blogging, I have been writing. At long last. I've been reading "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron, and only just begun to complete the exercises. Of course this is something I had originally planned to begin in August, and gave up Facebook to do so. It set me on a path of writing every day in a notebook, which was incredibly liberating and therapeutic. I filled a 200 page notebook in less than 2 months. It's time to carry on with the lessons though. I do not want to journal. I want to write. I want to create.
Giving up Facebook has been a life-lesson I didn't anticipate. I will not take it up again before I have finished the Artist's Way, and finished "Writing Your Screenplay". I will not take it up again until I actually "write" a book or "screenplay" as a matter of fact.
I have learned that grief can be wielded with function. It can sit on my shoulder. It can shut the fuck up.