Oh little blog- i have a million things i could write about but nothing that comes to mind, does that make sense, probably not but then life rarely does.
I've not been up to much worth commenting on, I've tried my hand at quilting and have made a tea cosy- inspired by my latest post of finds, and an ice cream sundae cushion cover. It's sort of therapeutic to take old fabric and bring them back to life again. Yet i'm feeling very self-conscious over my 'makes' mainly because i have the world's most creative and talented family and i've always been the odd one out! They can draw and paint, sew, craft- do everything basically and do it amazingly. My 'craft' as a young one was always poetry, i seemed to like to make patterns with words and yet as i got older i became embarrassed by that. And that's something that often makes me ponder.
If life is about living who deems what is embarrassing or not? Yet i feel driven to not be myself because i feel like an oddball, like life is the square hole and I'm a round peg. It's very hard to explain i guess, i just sort of feel like i don't quite fit in with what life is supposed to be.
I've been waiting for years to find that something that makes me 'me', something that sort of connects me to the world and it always alludes me. I don't even feel like this blog is truly me because i don't want to write about me- it's nice to post about things i like and so on and it does help me 'live' dreams that would never be 'lived' but i often want to just write- write thoughts, feelings, just let things out but i don't, mainly because i think i fear loneliness online even though I'm used to loneliness in real life. I want to be able to post and be the person of my dreams but how can i when she doesn't exist, and is life supposed to be lived with a constant illusion of life?
Who knows, maybe one day the real me will appear, maybe not, and i guess that uncertainty is what makes life...