Today I realized that one of the anonymous blogs out there that I read sometimes when nobody on my blogroll is updating is actually written by someone I know. And the hontesy and self-truth that this person is courageous enough to write with really amazes me.
I like to think of myself as being one of the most well-adjusted people I know. But am I? I spend time congratulating myself on making it through my personal strife and struggles, and coming out “on top” at the end of things.
Then I read other people’s web journals, and see what they’re able to write about, and how they are so confidant in their own lives. And what do I write about? My fridge contains liverwurst. I am Licorice Tea. I am a temporary cat lady.
What am I really?
I am dissatisfied with my relationship.
I am curious about things I’m not comfortable speaking about.
I am concerned about aspects of my job.
I am lonely.
I am scared.