I guess I can understand it. If you had a blog where you talked about me I would probably want to read it. But there’s nothing here that’s particularly insightful or thought provoking. It’s a messy – and probably infuriating – one sided conversation with no neat resolutions and no valuable conclusions. It’s the stream of consciousness ramblings of a person who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing. It’s my attempt at vulnerability. Even if it is anonymous on the internet. It’s good practice.
And yet you keep coming back.
Maybe it’s morbid curiosity, rubbernecking at an accident. The spectacle of me picking off the scabs of our relationship over and over and examining the wounds must be entertaining.
Maybe you miss me sometimes. Maybe this is your way of keeping up, feeling for my pulse, trying not to become a total stranger.
Maybe this blog makes you feel important, strokes your vanity.
Maybe you’re just bored.
I don’t know, and I guess it doesn’t matter. I won’t stop you. I don’t need to understand. You’re welcome here, welcome to get whatever you need out of it. Welcome to lurk, welcome to chime in, welcome to leave and never come back if you want.
I’ll write and you’ll read. We’ll pretend it’s all fine, that you were never here. We won’t speak. We won’t do the work. We won’t do anything.0