I’ve been shutting down my old blogs. I’ve been saving archives, though realistically I have no idea when I’m ever going to dig them out again and read through all my adolescent drama (and then some).
It made me miss about how candidly I used to write about things, but I have to remember why I stopped.
Well, for one, I used to put too much of myself online. I got weirded out when someone approached a high school friend of mine and told him he knew him from my blog. Or people online would say we were friends and that we met in such-and-such a place but I had no idea who they were. It’s different now… everyone wants to become a social media influencer and get the most number of likes and followers. Young people! (Haha!) I can’t imagine myself talking about boyfriends and fights with parents and depressive moments as much as I used to. I cringe at the thought.
Second, the “writing for an audience” thing was getting to me. I felt like I had to write about everything… I would be out and be mentally composing my blog posts. I felt like I had this persona I had to live up to. Not really an ideal way to live.
But yeah, I miss writing. I write in my (physical) journal, but that’s mostly a gratitude journal, and I miss writing about my everyday. After going through my previous blogs, this one feels like a watered-down version of me — it’s a blog “where I talk about my minimalism journey” (oh man that word feels so pretentious) for crying out loud. But it’s a conscious decision I’ve made — I’m a lot more private now, where I only share my deepest thoughts with my closest friends.
But, as with taking photos, there is a balance somewhere.