Multiple times a week I sit down at my computer and start at a post. Right now, as I’m typing this, there are 7 unfinished drafts in that folder; and I suppose I need to start asking why that is? Why do I write these complicated and witty blogs in my head, but when I sit down at my desk, all I can see is the void of the screen? Why can’t I finish the blogs? Why can’t I translate those essays in my head onto the screen?

The answer, I realised today, is that all these posts are being written into the void. I can’t see you, I don’t know who you are or why you are reading this. I imagine you reading this: sitting at a desk or lying in your bed with some hot cocoa and a sandwich, but probably you’re sitting at the doctor’s office and are just idly scrolling through some sites you ‘liked’ one night while you were high on coffee. Or on the toilet. I can be as poetic as I want to be, but that is a very real possibility and one I promise you I’m not imagining. There might not be that many of them, but my mind do have a number of barriers and imagining you on the toilet is definitely a restricted-zone.

And that’s part of it. I can imagine you smiling as you read this, or sighing or even rolling your eyes, but I’ll never know you. I’ll never know why you read this or what you think about it or who you might show this to. You are a void: an endless pit I write into. You are the void I entrust my random thoughts to. You are the void that will always be just beyond my reach, and it frightens me. For I can also imagine you thinking this is nonsense. I can imagine you scrolling by without a second glance and most definitely without a second thought. Or even a first thought. You are scary.

Yes. You are scary.

 

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