July 3rd, 2014

When I was little, I wrote in a diary all. the. time. I still do these days, too -- just not as often. I have about 20 journals sitting in the bottom right drawer of my roll-top desk. All entirely full of scribbles and thoughts and anxiety and teenage angst. My God, the embarrassment is so acute that whenever I read back through them it is almost painful!

Of course, there are some entries that make me giggle -- usually about the boys I loved in middle school (ahem, Mark, ahem).

Anywaaaaaaay, I've been thinking a lot about my blogging the past couple weeks and, tonight, mulled over a dichotomy.

Usually it's a bit fearful for me to post a blog. I get riddled with anxiety (because, well, first of all because I am only recently realizing that I might have a bit of an anxiety disorder). But, also because opening up is difficult and scary. A lot of times, it's very weird for me because I write things never knowing if anybody reads them. Usually thinking that no one does. It makes me wrestle with a sense of loneliness and uncertainty. Which is curious to me -- something I'm examining to understand about myself.

But, tonight though, it feels like it's the opposite.

You know how sometimes, when you look at the night sky, some people say they feel so tiny and insignificant and small? It was surprising for me to hear that because I always felt the opposite. It was incredibly amazing to me that I was a part of something so beautiful. That I could just sit there and look at all of this with my own eyes. It made me feel larger than life.

With that said, it's interesting that most nights I don't know if anybody reads this. But, tonight, it's OK. The universe can seem so large at times. I have journal after journal that proves just that.

I suppose, what I'm saying is: thank you, kind reader(s) (;P), for allowing me to sit here and look at the stars with you.