The simpler me…

Dear Diary,

Back when I first started writing (almost an entire decade now!), I started writing diary entries every day because I read online that it would be a great way to connect with readers. You know, give them constant access to your life, thoughts, and updates to your writing endeavors.

I managed to pull it off for a while, but then I slowly began to realize something: I wasn’t as interesting as all that, and I definitely wasn’t famous enough to warrant that sort of attention. Most people didn’t even read my entries, and I can’t blame them: even with my favorite authors, I rarely read things of that nature either.

So why was I writing diary entries then? Why was I taking so much time from my actual love (writing) just to throw out nonsensical data to readers who likely wouldn’t even be interested to begin with?

I stopped. Surprisingly, several readers reached out and asked why the frequency of my entries was tapering off, but it did free so much of my creative time (and energy!) that I couldn’t even think of going back to doing them daily.

Still, sometimes I go back and read some of my previous entries, and I can’t help but smile. So much energy! So many crazy times! Those were the days of a younger, more carefree me, the me before the pandemic, the me that didn’t give a fuck about much of anything except my readers and my big brother (and, of course, my Baby Squirrel).

The simpler me.

I miss her sometimes.

But only for a minute.

As much as I like her, I love myself now.

I’d rather be in love than in like any day…

#Alexaliens

 

Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.

– Theophrastus

(Image by Bianca Van Dijk from Pixabay)

 

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