When I was younger - late teens, early twenties - I used to write a lot. And there was a time period of about a year when I used to blog a lot. And I think part of the reason I'm choosing to write in this one, today, is because I don't think anyone I know, in my "real" life, reads it, anymore.
See, the blogging thing is convenient. It's so much faster to type than to actually take pen to paper; but once someone you actually know finds your musings...well...it's not so comforting, anymore.
Think about it...why do most people start diaries of any kind? As an outlet, right? Well, I used to write diary entries and poems galore, as my outlet. I'd only share the poetry with those closest to me. They usually had to do with some stupid boy who probably wasn't worth my time, to begin with. Hell, I'm sure I even wrote something along the lines of "I know you're bad for me, so why is this so hard?"
In any case, all that writing kept me sane. Which brings me back to my original musing: is it healthy that I haven't written anything in a while? I mean, am I hiding from something? Avoiding it? Am I just being silly and overthinking things?
I don't know. I feel like parts of me have been lying dormant for a while and they've been reawakened. Said reawakening has sent a whole bunch of wheels turning in my head. I feel like I'm flexing mental muscles that haven't been used in a while. It's a wonder I don't have a killer headache.
It sure is nice to have a place to ramble, though.