The meaning of the words here, and all over, is different for each of us. For instance, the post below, was not written out of sadness. That someone sees it in a different light is good, it’s flattering that someone can relate to the words. But that doesn’t mean one can relate to me, nor can I relate to someone who wrote a post that compelled me, or touched me.
My words are whispers in my mind, become screams sometimes under my fingers, but without this space here, they would never be born. And like a child, once born, they keep changing, their meaning unsettled, always open to interpretation.
When I started to write here, I was in a different place, a different time. I wrote differently. And in a year from now, still it will have changed. When I’m happy, I’d rather live it, feel it. It hasn’t inspired me to write yet, so raw the feeling is. And even while happy, some darker thoughts might spring, and here they end up, splattered.
Here is an outlet, not a barometer.
It always amazes me that people think this is all there is to someone. People are complex individuals and it takes much more than posts in a blog to really get to know them. At least I hope it does.
Ça fait maintenant 4 ans que j’écris sur mon blog et à chaque fois que je retourne lire quelques billets dans mes archives, je n’en reviens pas de voir à quel point je ne suis plus où j’étais à ce moment-là. C’est vraiment incroyable… et c’est plutôt spécial d’avoir quelque chose qui nous permet de voir notre propre évolution.
stephaine: I hope so too… It’s easy to just take what you read for all there is to it though.
quartz: oui, autant que j’aime écrire, j’aime me relire et constater la distance, le changement. merci de ta visite, tu es la bienvenue quand tu veux 🙂