The private me.

God knows where this will go or how far back it may stretch. But what is a blog for, if not for spastic brainstorming?

The fact is, there were no strings that were surreptitiously attached to the giving of this space. Quite the contrary. So why not use it to its fullest exent? Edit ME? How dare I. My stuff. My space. My world. Through rose or crap colored glasses, mine.
The private me. The me that I keep safe and hidden and protected. The me you can’t get to. The problem with this, my friends, is that people always want to get past the barrier. Human nature. But it is a two way street. The street I walk down when I need that human nurturing. I can’t have it both ways, some will bark. Indeed, I can’t.
Because I’ve been down there. Tried it. Too many times with failure manifesting. I want to want you. I want to need you. But that scared little kid inside still puffs up her armour. Too dangerous. Even for a Bond film. I process and collect my information the same way as I always have; alone. Whether I’m 10 again and being sent to my room, or almost 40, still going to my room. It’s just me. It’s just my fiber. My DNA. Maybe I come from a tribe of Nomads. That would explain it for you, wouldn’t it? Give you some straw to grasp. Or maybe I’m a little “off” of center. That might explain it for me. Nevertheless, people, I need you. In my own way, in my own time. Maybe not today, but definitely tomorrow.
You want me to be what you perceive in your OWN minds. But I’m me. Just me. Today. For now. Is it enough? I believe it is. You wouldn’t be reading this if it weren’t. Just talk to me someday. Talk when you are not so angry and scared and threatened. I’ll hear you. I may be a loner, but I do so love you all.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 8th, 2006 at 6:23 pm and is filed under Whining 101. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.