I’ll never fully understand the world we live in when it comes to personal feelings.
People flood this place we call home with talks about how the truth will set ones soul free, but more often than not it is those same people that are too afraid to speak their real thoughts.
To share their real feelings.
We all become confined to the small spaces of comfort we build for ourselves; speak of being truthful, but are hindered by the past that has made each one of us become hermits in holes.
We find comfort in spilling all of our hearts hurts and desires onto blank pages, blank documents, and blank blogs.
We find comfort in sharing the deepest of our characteristics that make each one of us so uniquely special to a blank audience.
This is me at my rawest, constantly keeping my deepest to myself.
The truth is that I personally have created my deepest to live in journals and blogs, both belonging only to me; full of undelivered thoughts and letters; undelivered feelings.
Half of me is ready to run out and spill the truths that my heart has held on to so closely and secretly, but the other half is unwillingly terrified.
What even is the point of this post right now?
I am equally encouraged by my own and discouraged.