This blog has been an interesting and often times helpful experience. I think I’ve come to the place where I am going to once again choose to be private. It’s not that I have run out of things to write about. It’s just that I can’t bear anymore reading my mistakes so expressively written. It makes it too real. Maybe we aren’t made to remember our lives in such great detail. Maybe memories are just supposed to disappear and we’re better if they do. Sometimes people are made to disappear. I’d like to. Just poof.
I guess that’s too easy.
I don’t write about people without telling them first and I think that has been a mistake. What I say exposes my vulnerabilities and gives men a confidence in my love for them that for some reason instead of garnering respect and good treatment it creates a sense of invincibility for them that ends in heartache for me.
It’s not easy sharing some of the stuff I have. I’ve really put my neck out there. Maybe there is also such a thing as being too honest.
Harry disappointed me last night. That is putting it mildly. Not sure I can do this again. Not sure I want to either. I just feel undone.
Whether Harry and I can pull through this is going to be something I keep to myself. Maybe it’s an appropriate end to my improvised life.
Maybe having a plan and sticking to it is better after all.