Crossing Those Lines

In the immortal words of Britney "Rehab" Spears, "Oops, I Did It Again!" It seems my blog keeps getting me into trouble. I mean, I do feel sometimes I intentionally write things hoping people don't read them, but unconsciously maybe I do want them to read it afterall. And then of course they read it. I need to express myself and that's why I have this thing. It's a keyhole into my life. Am I just supposed to write about how I woke up, went to work, then came home and went to bed? I think my life is sorta interesting and I think my life sorta interests people. I am not an open book by any means. I am complex and enigmatic and difficult to read. Through my posts, I can convey what I can't necessarily vocalize. There are many shades to my personality. Yes, I may come off as this sweet and innocent girl who because she looks young occasionally will get offered children's menus in restaurants, but there is another side of me lurking beneath the surface. A much bolder, brazen girl who doesn't hold back. I am compelled to write about things that affect me emotionally and a lot of it has to do with the men in my life. Certain men have brought me a great deal of pain in the past, and I am always trying to work through it and figure it out. This blog is cathartic in that respect. But writing about certain incidents, well, I am making myself vulnerable. I am subtly spilling out secrets...secrets that were once hidden that have now been unearthed....secrets certain people now know from reading my forum. When should I hold back? Should I not write what I feel? I think I need to be more discreet in my writings. I don't know. I'm not going to apologize for who I am, though. I'm not going to apologize for being expressive and emotional. Eventually I will learn my lesson. I think it's gotten to the point where I need to and will stop. From here on out, I'm not going to write about my romantic relationships on here. At all. It's too much. I'll have to keep to boring work anecdotes and random pop culture musings. This time things went too far and once again, I apologize if I offended. This time, for real, it's never going to happen again. I'm done. I'm such a tool.

Sometimes I feel like lines are meant to be crossed. I'm never going to apologize for my life or my lifestyle or the men I get involved with. I don't want to be 50 and look back thinking how I never went on any adventures or how I never did such and such with certain people, etc. I'm about embracing life and living it. It's the writer in me. I want to have experiences to integrate into the great American novel I'll eventually write or into my memoirs or even blog. I suppose this is the only way I can justify my actions or my unsatiable curiosity. The need to tell stories. Just like Bukowski and all those other great novelists. Scandalous.

Um, I almost posted this on the wrong site. Phew. Luckily I caught it in time or I really would've been in trouble!!