I may have just described stalking in the most romantic way possible there, heh heh.
Sometimes, after a round of blog hopping, or even after reading a really amazing book, I look at the way I write and feel a sense of desperation about my writing. In truth, I have issues with my writing, and I don't like it much. If I was an objective observer, and stumbled upon my blog, I am doubtful that I would give it too much of my attention. You must forgive me for being insecure about it; writing has been the one thing that I've been told I'm good at, and I've somewhat believed those compliments. And so it worries me sometimes, when I don't feel like I am writing what I want to say, and when I am not expressing what I want simply because I cannot find a way to phrase it anymore. Imagine if the one thing you are good at, or at least have been told you were good at, suddenly just felt really hard to do and that it doesn't come naturally anymore.
That is how I feel about writing these days. And it worries me.
But I am however, very grateful for those of you who've continued reading my blog despite such boring posts and blah writing these few months. Thank you, so very much. I'll never see what you see in my blog, but the knowledge that it is still of interest to some is a very comforting thought.
Mwahs! Love yous!