The Friend I Don't Have

I was reading contentedly this morning, put my book down to sip some coffee, and the thought popped into my head that this blog is the friend I don't have.

I have mentioned that there is not one person in my life with whom I can talk to knowledgably about the things I love, the things that are most important to me. I am talking about face to face, personal, daily interaction. Not long distance. Steve is my long distance friend and our conversations are quite real; they are satisfying and spiced with laughter. (Talk about covering my ass.)

That has to be the driving force behind me doing this for over ten years. If I couldn't do this I would curl up and die.

Most likely that thought has occurred to me before, and most likely I have already written about it. I don't remember. Think of this as the 2021 version of that thought.

I speak my mind in here. I talk about things I love, things that bother me; I lay bare my soul and insecurities and I sprinkle in some braggadocio and insanity. My emotions are raw and real and on full display.

I do not reveal 100% of who I am, though. Family and friends read this blog - I do not want to blow their minds by allowing free access to my darkest thoughts.

I tried an experiment a while back. I joined a website anonymously where I could say anything I wanted to say. At first it was cathartic. Then it got weird. There are strange people out there and many wanted to become my friend. That was the end of that little excursion.

I have never put any effort into monetizing this blog, and I think that results from a combination of laziness, and the way I approach this beast. Self-therapy. That's really what it is.

Like most of the negative aspects of my life, this lack of connection is my own fault. I started writing in 2011 as an emotional outlet. I am still heavily dependent on this emotional outlet 10 years later - an obvious sign that I have not put much effort into changing my situation. 

That will have to change in 2022.

This is dangerous - a list is formulating regarding 2022 aspirations. I have already put my fatness on the line in writing - a move that is motivating and vulnerable. The circle of friends has to be on the list. I have other things in mind, but I will not put them in writing. That way you will not have the ammunition on 12/31/22 to say "You fucking fraud, you blew it again."

It all comes down to the ultimate creative question - if I ever become comfortable in my own skin, will I still be driven to write in here? (Is pain necessary to create?)

I hope to answer that in 2022.