Too many people who I don't want to allow a peep in my brain and heart have access to my blog.
So strange that I don't mind shouting my dreams, hopes and despairs on the net, around the globe and back, but I do have a problem with some people reading it. The ones who's faces are familiar. The ones I can bump into on the street or in the supermarket... Faces I am not happy to see, who are part of my hurt, my loneliness. But it stops here, because I don't write this blog for them, I write this blog for me. Writing like this is like shouting my joy, my fears over rooftops into the world. Not knowing who hears me, but knowing I am heard, I am here, I am alive. It is too strong a freedom to give up. Maybe a little courage still trickles through these vains...
