WRITING FOR ME

Sometimes I am made aware of the fact that people are reading what I write here. It happens when I receive a comment or an email of encouragement—mostly for being open and honest with my words. I am reminded that blogging is a public forum.

But when I am writing, like I am now, words echo in my mind only as thoughts of my own. They are considered as if I am walking alone or as if I’d written a poem and am reading it over for the first time, to be checked for grammar and spelling, but mostly for the truth of the sentiment.

It is an added attraction to know that sometimes someone actually reads what I write but when I ask myself, would I still write knowing that nobody would ever see these words. And, of course, I think of the years of scratching my thoughts in personal journals that are locked away in old olive green foot lockers for no one to see but me.