There are always things I think I should write about. Important things. Stupid things. Amusing things. Stuff about things. But then I don’t. I figure, who’s going to read it? But that’s not the right way to look at it. I dig writing. I dig writing just for the sake of writing. Writing for me. For the void. For the moment and for tomorrow. Writing for others is all well and fine, and yes, I do that with some of my other blogs that real life people do read, but the world is so stuff full of words everywhere that most people who write can’t expect to be read unless they are (or are introduced by someone who is) already established, notorious, or deeply embedded within a community of sorts.
…but this isn’t meant to be a post about writing, getting noticed, or any other pro blogger tip thingy. It is a post about remembering its ok to write just for the hell of it. Remembering this reminds me of who I am. Remembering who I am helps me deal with the ever present wave of horror, despair, hate and injustice that forever hangs above the world threatening to brake upon anyone that dares to look at it. Remember who you are. Remember that yes, some people hate you for just being alive, that yes, just being alive hurts others. Remember that some people are ignorant, bigoted fucks, but also that sometimes it is you who is ignorant.