14th Jan 2004

lately you’ve been painting on the walls with a black fire you lit, and you call it your mirror

I’m not a creative writer. Starting a blog (again) is making me question my motives. I want to gain appoval among my peers. I want to be recognised as one of them.

True, I do love expression for its own sake, and the inner value that writing gives me, but couldn’t I do that in the privacy of my journal? Can the typed word even be as impacting as the one scrawled by pen?

I have decided to keep my blog. I want to be known deeply by my friends, and if I communicate better in writing than in conversation, then I must allow others to read what I write.

True, I must self-censor some, but hopefully it is because the parts I leave out are inconsequential and uninteresting. I don’t wand to omit for the purpose of casting myself in a better light in the eyes of others. I hope I will report failures as well as successes.

For my part, I hope that the presence of this self-doubt in my soul is evidence that I still have a heart. And I intend to keep heart – to the (bitter) end.

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