Why actually do we write?
Why do I sit here and type, aware of the fact that the whole world (or whoever is coming here) can read this?
I am not an artist
I don’t intend to entertain people
I don’t intend to show off with whatever
I don’t want to fool other people by squeezing out emotions so they come back and I can brag about how many people read my blog, I don’t even look at the access statistics.
I only want to have a space to write about things that move me, that I want out of my head and archived for the future.
Anna doesn’t want to be mentioned here, heck, I can’t even write about half of the things that move me because it might imply her.. and as we are a team, I have to take her feelings into consideration and stay away from writing about her. That doesn’t leave much left to write.. as I am not having any exciting/adventurous hobbies and/or extreme sport addictions, I don’t take drugs, don’t have a multiple personality disorder that needs to be treated by writing about it, don’t have the desire to share my sexual fantasies with the world (anyway, this would imply Anna again, so I can’t anyway…) – WHY DO I WRITE HERE???
Somehow this thing has developed a life of its own and even if it is not interesting at all I am putting it here for the rest of the world to see.. why?
Kinda reminds me of a dutch house where you can look inside (no curtains) and look through into the garden.. and they don’t care.. they just don’t seem to be disturbed by the fact that the window is open all day and lots of tourists watch them dig in their noses..