Got to admit, it's kind of weird to be writing about myself again. Is it because I think I'm less important to the world? Is it because I think it's egotistical and somewhat indulgent? Isn't it such a millennial cliche? Yes. Yes. Yes.
However, I missed writing, and never ceased to have words bubbling around in my head when I wasn't actively doing it. When these writerly symptoms got to the point of WebMD-ing 'schizophrenia' for confirmation bias, I'd make a point to take my mind off it. Instead of freeing the words coursing inside me, I'd simmer them down. I took the pot off the stove, away from the heat. Denied the impulse. Starved the attention. I dulled myself, to an extent. I'd go read, go talk to someone, go work out, or all too often get caught up in the social media milieu.
I wanted to take myself as far away from online vulnerability via blogging as possible. I was paranoid someone would use material as blackmail. I was still conflicted about the things on which I'd opine. I'd get word-choice and grammatical anxiety.
But now I'm ready to talk again.