I started blogging three years ago when someone I know sent me their blog address and I felt this sudden need to write to be read. A friend of mine thinks its creepy, writing about yourself, your life for the world to read. “Are you looking for some kind of poisitive affirmation from ther world that how you live is correct? What is this need to share?” she asks me everytime she reads an entry of mine which is not generically vague and has to do with something that happens directly occuring in my life.
In the beginning, I used to defend myself. Having been a journal writer for most of my adolescent and adult life, I have a pretty chronological and somewhat detailed log of my life. But that’s just for me. And I have come to believe that in most true writers there is, perhaps hidden for some time, a need to share what they think, their writing- to put it out there for public perusal without truly ever needing a reaction. Once the words are out there to be read (in the cyberworld or otherwise) there is some measure of peace in us- of having put something to rest, of having resolved something because the words no longer burden us.
Thats the best explanation I have come up with so far.