The thing is, no one cares.
And even if I were to tell anyone, it's not as if anything would change. It'd just be a momentary discomfort, and some added paranoia, perhaps. Nothing even really happened, but I think I wouldn't feel so bad about it if I could tell someone, anyone. But the few people I've tried to tell have ignored me, and I can't even post here.
I always thought this would be my escape, of sorts? A confessional. Somewhere to go when I need to vent and not be judged. Like a hairstylist, or a priest, or a therapist. Except mine would be this shifting, vague idea of a person represented by a pageview number. But you know what? I don't even have that anymore. I can't use this blog anymore. It's become contrary to it's original purpose, and even though it never really helped as much as I'd hoped, it still helped. It was still somewhere to go when I wanted someone to listen.
But now too many of the wrong people are listening, and I've tried- believe me, I've tried- to just ignore things and keep going, regardless to the fact that all of those other people were listening to my confessionals. It's only resulted in a steadily increasing pile of drafts in my folder, posts I write and will never share.
I know that it's my fault. I could go around and ask each one of those people to stop visiting the blog, or I could make it private, or I could just ignore them some more. I know that there really isn't anyone to blame but myself here, and that it's petty of me to complain of a problem when, again, it's bordering on nonexistent, and it's also my fault in the first place.
And I know that this is just a blog. I'm not going to attach any sort of whimsical nature to it, not going to regard it as more then it actually is. But it still hurts to think that now, I don't even have this retreat. And microscopic problems I may have with life, but they're still problems. And besides, I'm a teenager, so hormones and emotions run wild, blowing everything out of proportion.
I'm just really tired, and I wish someone could listen without a biased ear.
(It's times like these when I'm struck by how pathetic I am)
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The musings and philosophies of a reluctantly teenaged-girl
1 comment:
Girl, I am pretty worried about you.
Please don't stop writing on a blog, even if you do end up separating inner-most thoughts from those you'd feel more comfortable letting strangers - aka moi - read. You could privatize your blog, or start a secret Shorts in a Snowstorm-Dear Diary one. Just don't stop writing! I read blogs for two things only: 1. to catch up with my friends, 2. to learn something about humanity (aka. entertainment - though that word really does sounds cheap in this example). Since I only follow my friend's blogs, and a few others, including YOUR'S... I don't know if that says anything about how good you are at sharing your thoughts/talents, but it should.
If you ever need an unbiased ear, my email address is clairevalenebagley@gmail.com
I hope you know that you are a great and talented person! Someone should tattoo that on your arm so you can see that every five minutes. Or you could get an ugly tribal tattoo or a Looney Tunes character... But then you'd be escorted out of society.
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