Tonight I am sitting on my bed, and wondering why I feel the need to write out my thoughts and feelings for what is potentially the whole world to see. Why should I be so proud and so bold as to think that anyone is interested in ME.
While contemplating my arrogance in posting bologna on the web, I think I am realizing that it really isn’t about what people want to read in a strict sense. If that were the case, then I would pursue being a great romance novelist……because who doesn’t have a trashy story or two as a guilty pleasure, right? The reason I feel this need to spew about my days, my nights, and my completely uneventful life, is because for so long I have not had anyone to hear me. All of what I want to put up on this little Nuurdy site is a bit of an over-correction for being silent for so long.
For as long as I can remember, I have held back what I think from those around me. It is only in my very recent past that I have started to exercise my ability to disagree with anyone and still feel like the world has not crashed around me. When I don’t particularly care about someone (had no emotional connection) then it has been pretty easy for me to stand up for myself or to speak my mind; but as soon as there is any kind of relationship with a person, I shrink away from being different because I don’t want them to be upset or angry or hurt. The past 2 years have been an ongoing epiphany of individuality. So…..in not wanting to ever upset anyone, I never said a word. Not of real value, anyway. And when you stop speaking….people stop listening.
I love to learn about other people. Whether it’s a captivating biography, little updates in letters, or chatting with friends, I love to hear about the ups and downs of those I care about. Maybe it’s time to realize that there might be a few out there that care about me, too. And if I start speaking, hopefully they will listen again.