Invisible ink

With two exceptions, I've told no one about this side blog project of mine.

I'm not sure why, exactly. Maybe it's because I'm embarrassed by the emotions I'm spilling so clumsily here.

In trying to process what's happening in my life, I've somehow managed to generate this pulpy mess that's awkward, cryptic and nonsensical.

The temptation to delete it all is intermittent, but strong, born mostly of pride, or a lack thereof.

Of course, I could make it private, but there's something strangely liberating about releasing these thoughts into the blogosphere, like messages tucked into bottles, then set adrift.

And so, for now at least, I keep typing, curious to see what happens next.