I don’t know when, or why exactly, this blog stopped being personal.
After all, it is a blog about me. My life. What I think. When I look back on the posts for the last six months–or longer–I can see what my readers can’t. This stopped being personal long ago.
Of course, I still wrote about things: what I’d been reading, random lists of who I needed to talk to or how I wanted software to work, of preparing to move to a new city with a new roommate.
However, I stopped digging deeper into my own life. I haven’t talked much about living in Chico (I heart it more than Pepsi), how I broke up with my boyfriend of five years (which an insanely long story), how life is.
This makes me sad in a profound way. This whole week, I’ve been talking with Shep about things, Danny occasionally, trying to figure out when the personal blog became superficial. When the important moments of my life didn’t get recorded anywhere — not only the blog, but in my physical journal as well.
I don’t know where the change occurred, when my blog became background noise. It wasn’t that I was online less; I was probably online more, complaining about the ennui that had enveloped me. But somewhere along the line, words stopped falling out of my fingers.
I’ve got posts I’ve started, months and months ago, that I never managed to finish, the words still locked up inside me, unable to get out.
This makes me sad.
Sadder still is that it’s taken me this long to recognize what the blog has become. I can only hope that by recognizing the downward changes, I can reverse them. Not to have more readers; to be true to myself and why I started blogging.
– “Welcome to the Black Parade,” The Black Parade: My Chemical Romance
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