I don’t want to write here, anymore, in this way, in this place. For a while. Forever? For some time, now.
Writing here used to be one of the signal pleasures of my little life, you know? People were always asking me “Are you going to put that on your blog?” and I’d be like “Totally! I’m going to totally put it on my blog!” And I would, I would write and write and write, it feels like now, and it was the best thing ever, and I would write some more and I wouldn’t care if it was good or if it was bad because it was mine and that was good enough. Years ago I used to race home from whatever stupid job I had and run over to the laptop, just so I could write about my life, right here on the internet where people can see. Even a couple of years ago I was still having ideas on the bus and fishing around madly in my purse for a pen and paper so I could make sure to get everything all down, so I could make sure to write about it here. I met some wonderful people, because of the strange strong desire to run home and write it all down and post it all up.
How did I go from that time to this time, where I sigh and roll my eyes and put off posting my silly holiday pictures one more night? (Yeah, I went away for New Year’s. Who cares? Not me). When did it start feeling like a chore? When did I start flinching at whatever I posted? When did I stop telling people I had a blog?
I can’t tell you any of that because I don’t know. I remember when I first started writing online, ten years ago, people would sometimes ‘go on hiatus’ and there would be a lot of speculation about why, and the writer would be silent for a while, or occasionally pop back up, or start a new blog somewhere else, or just never be heard from again, at least not among her readers who only knew her in that way. And you’d sort of wonder what had happened, and be sad a little–because you’d feel like you knew them, which you kind of did, and it’s natural to be sad when you lose touch with someone you know. And that would be that.
I never thought I would do that. Of all the various thoughts and feelings I’ve had about this blog thing, I never thought I would just up and quit. I never felt the need to make an announcement, either, like I always just thought that I should write whenever I wanted…because that’s the whole point…and it wasn’t something to be all drama queeny about.
It’s true I am more self-critical. It’s true I don’t feel comfortable writing about the things I really want to write about, anymore. It’s true I feel trite. It’s true I feel wary of my privacy. It’s true I feel like it’s an obligation to write here–just because I have been doing it for what feels like so long, and it’s just what I do, and I just do it.
But I don’t know why, this time, I feel like I have to say something about it. I guess I just feel guilty, looking at all the time that now passes between posts. (Is that even something to feel guilty about?) I feel stupid for having nothing to say.
Because what is so strange is that nothing’s even happened. There is no reason to feel or think this way about this thing I have done quietly, in my own little corner, for all this time. Nothing has happened, there is no reason.
But still, I’m not going to do this anymore, for a while. Secretly I hope not forever. Secretly I hope I’ll be able to run home and write again, and that there will still be people to read it if I do.