I would say that I am sorry for not writing. I would extend my deepest apologies in hopes that everything could return to the way it was.

But I won’t. Because it would be a lie.

There have been moments where I have asked to be tied up…so that my fingers would not glide over the keyboard, releasing every taboo and questionable thought that travels through my brain. There are too many people who read this, who read into this, who think this is my diary left open on the end table for company to peruse when invited over for tea. This is not every thought, but only a fraction of a piece of a portion of a thought in the grand scheme of things, and I feel hindered by what should be written and what shouldn’t. I want people to read (that is the whole point), but I don’t want them to read inhibited by moral obligation, preconceived notion, and biting judgment. I want to write unfiltered while the reader takes it all in at his own risk.

I don’t want my conversations and relationships with people to be based on what they read on my blog. I don’t want people to think that they have grasped the epitome of who I am and what I believe in based on a few paragraphs written on one bad day of my life. I don’t want people to think they’ve got me figured out because I happened to share my experience with grief and loss or utter joy on the internet. Because my purpose in this blog is not to spill my guts out to strangers. My purpose is to write… to exercise my ability to string words together on a thread of vulnerability in hopes that the outcome will lead someone to a different perspective, at least until the sentence ends.

Having said this, I am in the process of starting a new site. My hope is that it will be my raw truth with a touch of creative license splattered in HTML. Stay tuned…