I still have my Xanga account. Yep. The one I’ve had since I was 13. I started it more or less because it was the cool thing to do. So between visiting the FoxKids and Zoom websites, I’d blog about nothing with grammar more terrible than I’d like to admit. It was all about the flashy backgrounds and catchy music. Eventually most of my friends left the platform. They realized that they didn’t have much to say. And I must admit that I had my fair share of absences. But I’d always come back. Always. Every time that boy in class ignored me or when my family issues got me down, I’d just fill a textbox with woes and click Submit. Somehow, having everything out in the open was always a relief. And it still is.
But I think somewhere along the way I was torn between posting for my audience and posting for me. I found that bigger the audience, the less freedom I had to vent. My diary became a show. But no more! My blog shouldn’t be a reflection of my inspiration; it’s supposed to be a reflection of me. I was supposed to inspire other people, not the other way around.
Listen, many of us don’t fit in a box and our blogs shouldn’t have to either. We’re just humans, each with a particular taste and a unique outlook. And believe it or not, there are people out there who could really benefit from our peculiarities. No one has been in the same places as you have, at the same time that you have, and did the things that you have. So, though I can’t say we’re all pathfinders, each of us has something to contribute. And as you write your next post, I hope you heed my advice: You do you. Even if that means ignoring said advice!
So here’s to the true bloggers, the you-take-it-or-leave-it bloggers; the I-need-some-outlet-in-this-crazy-life bloggers. Thanks for the good times and thank you for always being there.