Why do I always feel like I have more to hide than I have to say? I'm talking at walls and hoping they aren't listening. I'm so tired of compartmentalising my life. For so long I've kept secrets, not even interesting secrets, but secrets nonetheless. My real life friends don't know about my blog and sometimes I wonder if I'll ever tell them, not that it really matters any more. Although the line that separates "real life friends" and "internet friends" has become increasingly blurred over the last year or two. And then, the people who do know I have a blog don't read it anyway so what's the point in hiding it?
I guess before it was because I felt lame, and I needed an outlet that was just for me and this crafty thing I was trying to do. And then it became something else, just an outlet. And sometimes it's nice to just have a space that is for you and not have to worry about anyone else because you can do with it what you want and post emo thoughts and pretend arty pictures and indulge yourself with comments from super lovely people. But somewhere along the way I lost it and I stopped posting and people stopped reading and commenting and it felt lonely and bare again.
I remember when I was in high school. I went through a super horrible shit time and my head just wasn't right like it should have been. I remember when I was freaking out I used to crawl under my computer desk and just sit there, my back against the wall and my knees against my chest. I still don't really know why it made me feel better but somehow being in a small space felt safe and comforting even though I was hiding more from myself than from anything else. Sometimes now I feel like I need that small space, I need something to wrap around me and close me in and bring me back to my senses. I don't care if it's a desk or a blanket or the arms of another person. I just need my spot back.