I wrote my last post a while ago, perhaps a very long time ago. It may have been written on my heart, or with my heart’s blood. Either way it’s personal.
I wrote it for myself, remembering my truth. I won’t ever be someone anybody get’s to be with easily. I’m in no way special. But I am an introvert and a writer and fiercely independent. I need triple the amount of solitude than most others.
But the person I wrote to exists even for someone like me. I know she’s out there somewhere.
You see, I don’t just write about writing. Sometimes I just write and I still want to post it, share it with you in the hope that it will mean something to at least one other person.
That is all I can ever hope to achieve.
All writing is personal, but some more and some less. And whilst I write for myself, I don’t simply write about myself. Personal does not mean auto-biographical.
In the end I put it out here on the interweb for a kindred spirit to find.