Blogs have always interested me. Namely, because the majority of the ones I read are journals, diaries if you will; they're the personal moments of everyday people; the thoughts,perceptions,and struggles of someone who's simply striving to get through life--with a purpose.
There's an underlying art to blogging, and it has nothing to do with poetic musings. It's a matter of sly perspicacity.
There's things we leave out, things that if written publicly could be more akin to gossip, or
merely hurtful--because so rarely are the trials and obstacles of life completely caused, suffered, or learned alone.
So if I don't mention the girl who bruised me; the boy who scarred me; the shot that damaged me. all that's left is the heartache and lessons. That's what I write, a half of the story, a sliver of me.
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