Ghost Writer

It’s amazing to think that here I am writing to absolutely no one and feeling like I can truly say what I want and mean what I say.

The comfort that comes with the fact that you’re not actually speaking to someone in particular is as warm as a Kashmir sweater.
I mean, I guess, if you’re dying to find out who I am so that we can have a heart to heart, that’s possible…but for the most part, I am speaking to the unknown and the unknown is listening to me, an unknown to them. I know, I know…I’m rambling, but I wonder why it’s so therapeutic to speak to strangers instead of speaking to someone that knows you. Is it because those that know us almost always (even though they swear they don’t) cast some sort of judgment?
That’s probably why therapists have jobs…even though we all probably have someone that we could speak to (our friend, spouse, family member, imaginary peep)…we chose to spill our darkest secrets and thoughts to a complete stranger.
One that will give you a green light to be exactly who you are. I’m taking this blog as my green light, my therapist, my excuse to finally be and say what I want.
And you….well, you can bill me later.
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