April 28th 2020

Today I’ve been thinking about making this blog private. Because, you see, I don’t really tell the truth on here any more. For every highly filtered, roughly edited story I do tell, there’s another that I just completely suppress.

I don’t say exactly what I’m thinking. I drain my thoughts through a sieve and only allow myself to talk about the safe topics. I can’t talk about work like I’d want to because my boss reads this, and my boss’s boss reads this. And although I am overly honest with them about my personal life, I can’t be overly honest with them about how I feel about certain things at work.

And, conversely, when they’re the ones telling me things, I can’t go home and write about how that makes me feel because sometimes it’s things that I’m not supposed to know yet. And sure I can still talk about it, but I can’t document it. And that’s supposed to be the point of this blog. To document what I’m feeling and what I’m feeling at certain points in my life.

Like, right now is a really fucking interesting time in my life. I’ve got stories I want to tell, and feelings that I want to work through. But I can’t. I can’t talk about work because my boss will see. I can’t talk about relationships because my Mum will see. Or she’ll see. And part of me wonders whether my ex-girlfriend’s Dad might see.

My friends read this. My coworkers read this. My family reads this. It can’t be a proper diary if that’s the case. I was on the phone with my Dad the other day and he told me to watch my language because I’d written a blog post about the fly in my room and I’d called it a flappy little cunt.

Because that’s what I’ve had to resort to. Blog posts about flies. Is that the stories I want to read when I look back on this blog in 30 years time? Is that really all I’ve got to say during this absolutely bat-shit bonkers time in my life? A time where nothing really makes sense, and I’ve got so much to say, but no way of saying it.

So maybe I make this private. Try to keep blogging, but disconnect it from the internet. Except I already know the problem with that.

Without them surfacing online I’ll have no accountability. No proof that I blogged without missing a day. On this site there’s a blog post for every single day of the last five and a half years. And having that momentum, and the pressure and the desire to maintain the streak has made it possible. And if these weren’t hosted online I don’t think I’d feel the same pressure. So I’d probably just stop doing it all together.

Which is another option.

Because if I’m not being honest with myself, is there any point? Like, I’ve told people about this blog. I haven’t hid it from everyone. Some people found it themselves. Some people I sent the link. Some people I’ll never tell. There are people I’ve known ten years who don’t know, and people I’ve known six months who do. But either way, this blog isn’t supposed to be for them. It’s supposed to be for me.

And if I can’t be truthful, or write properly about what I’m feeling, is there really any point?

Until tomorrow, I’m not sure that there is.


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