When ever I’ve opened my blog up to post another blog I am
confronted with statistics about how my blog has been doing. This lets me know
how many people have been reading the articles I post and also which articles
are being read. This can be quite encouraging as you may have guessed. It is
amazing to open up the page to find out that any number of people have been
reading words which you yourself have scribbled usually into a notebook which I
keep in my handbag.
It can also be very harsh to read particularly when there
haven’t been people reading your articles. And if there is one thing I have
noticed it is that a blog tends to do better when it has been lovingly tended
to as opposed to my wretched abuse as of late. You see the problem hasn’t been
inspiration, nor has it been a lack of time although I am quick to use this
excuse. The truth of the matter is that I have been in a bit of an abyss.
I was once asked to describe how I felt to someone and
whilst I don’t know the psychological term for the mood I was in I view it as
being rather close to depression and my description was this; it feels as if I have
fallen into a never ending well and I am constantly falling further and further
into the dark space beneath me until the point where vertigo has ensured that I
no longer feel as if I am falling and yet I know I am yet to hit the ground.
And so I have fallen, deeper and deeper into my own
self-absorbed pity, wanting to climb out but having no steady point on which to
grab onto so that I may pull myself out.
I write this not for your pity but rather as an observation
of my life. It has recently come to my attention that regardless of who reads
my blog or how many beautiful statistics I read, displayed on the front page of
my blog, that I need to write for my own sake and like many writers just crave
somewhere or something to write on.
No comments:
Post a Comment