Most people who know me know that I don’t like sharing. No. I am not one of those kids that was told not to share my toys at the playground when I was growing up. I think my aversion to sharing any real emotion stems back to growing up “different” to other children.
Suzanne Gordon said “To be alone is to be different, to be different is to be alone.” In a way, my affinity to play soccer with the boys and to rip dresses in trees instead of make them made me different from both the girls and the boys. The self-sufficiency I was forced to adopt carries on even up to now. So why all of a sudden do I get the urge to give anyone who so chooses a glimpse into the “real me”? I guess because the best type of writing that one can do is honest and genuine and in a way leaves the writer feeling exposed, almost vulnerable to the reader. And so even if you don’t really know me, now you know I have a passion for writing;p; writing that goes beyond the readership of my ever-supportive best friend or my well-meaning quasi-mentor at least (both of whom you should meet along the journey of my blog).
With that introduction done, all I can say in the words of a singer I admire is, “Welcome to my soul :)”