at a loss for words

These past months have, unfortunately, severely hindered my writing process. This blog, originally a project in vocalizing usually internalized thoughts and exercising forming coherent sentences in general, has dwindled to a mere dozen or so of updates a month when I normally triple that amount. A much heavier workload accounts for most of my time, but I have little desire to even work around that. Alas, what I’ve lost is not inspiration, or even time: it is privacy.

Unlike my virginity, losing my privacy was actually something I cared about, something I feel like has changed who I am and how I act. This blog was at one point only open to the anonymous public, and I felt comfortable saying many things about people and situations I would not have otherwise. Through a series of misguided attempts to understand my own desires (admittedly and unfortunately, hearing vocal praise was one of them), I agreed to allow my friends and peers into a part of my mind.

I wish I could take it all back. There is nothing wrong with my friends, of course, but there is something wrong with me. At one point in my (just-turned-13) life, I was far too public with my feelings and opinions. In short, I lost my filter and was generally obnoxious. Since then, I have become increasingly tight-lipped. The idea of being used as gossip fodder, as a conversation topic, to be misconstrued, twisted, and shaped, is torturous. Strangers, judge me. You’re far away enough that I don’t mind the whispers. Peers? A completely different story. I can never be one of those who believes that any attention is good attention.

In many ways I respect writers who can open themselves up in this manner. I don’t mean turning into Julia Allison, but those who can admit their faults, mistakes, follies, even if those events do turn into fertilizer for others’ cheap entertainment—that’s some sort of courage I have yet to muster. Perhaps I’m internalizing, bottling things up. Perhaps I’ll never come out of my safety zone. Still, I always wonder: is it better to be crazy on the outside and let everyone know about it, or better to keep that crazy locked inside? If it’s out in the open, does people knowing about it make it worse? (And here, I realize someone will insinuate that I already am, in many ways, publicly insane.)

I don’t know what will become of this blog. Maybe I’ll start another one. Maybe I won’t. All I know is, from this experience I have learned that it is far easier talking about sex and relationships than it is to talk about personal failures, family problems, academic stresses, and financial destitution, AKA the stuff that actually matters in life. I wish I could learn to accept that my writing could reach out to people and let them know what kinds of situations I’m in rather than just ammunition for Tuesday night.