I write. A lot. Nearly hourly now something is written down into my journal/notebook/typed into my notepad on my phone... Some of it is just daily life crap--grocery list, title of a song on the radio, a lyric that grabbed me, the price of something at the store--or, in a more maddening rush of creativity, how something I've seen inspires an entire scene in my mind, visually or verbally...
I've been through a lot in the past 10 years... some of it won't ever be repeated to anyone unless specifically asked. Some of it should be repeated, but hurts too much to revisit just yet. Yet through it all, I wrote--sometimes in my extreme shorthand so that only I could decipher it. I have an entire box full of notebooks, another full of sketchbooks, about a gig's worth of journal entries under password protection on the computer... Journal entries, a few lines of poetry/lyrics of my own, clothing designs, room designs, and over the years letters were written that were never sent... I hope the intended recipient understands what I am saying... That went both ways apparently.
I have a very strong desire to live my life as transparently as possible. After 10+ years of being locked away, of having to heavily edit what our day-to-day was like, I never want to have to live like that again. Every time I had to lie to my parents, my grandparents, my siblings... another part of my heart, my mind, my soul died. I'm trying to heal those wounds in me, meanwhile trying to repair the damage done to those relationships. I think a big part of that healing process is to be brutally honest and put all of me out there. But do they really want to read my bad poetry? I guess we'll find out, if I ever get brave enough to post the crap.
I'll still be keeping some things private and erecting boundaries as I see fit: I'm not naming names unless I'm specifically allowed, and other than talking about the entire dating dilemma, my family isn't going to get a specific vote in when and who I date.
So here it is: I want to live transparently, but I don't know how much of me you want to read about. So how much should I share?
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