The Fear Of Being Me

I have heard it said that every writer should have a blog.   I don't know exactly when this became the rule, but far be it from to try and buck the status quo...so here it goes... Today's topic is 'The Fear Of Being Me'. I am sure most, if not all, of you have--at least at one point in your life--experienced a point where you were not really sure wether or not what was on you mind right then and there should be allowed to see the light of day.  Maybe it was a nasty thought about a co-worker, or perhaps a political point of view that did not really fit the current climate.  At any rate, the feeling is always the same--it is a nagging need to say something, coupled with an overwhelming feeling of dread over what might happen if you actually put it out there. I have been writing since I was in the fifth grade.  I have been told by some that I possess some talent for the process, although most would agree (myslef included) that the skill definitely needs to be honed.  I am now thirty five years old and no one has ever heard of me and, sadly, I can tell you right here and right now why that is. It is not for lack of talent.  I am not trying to be arrogant, but I have the ability to tell a tale.  I also have the ability to twist it which, for me, is the most exciting part of the process. It is not for lack of imagination.  I see a story in every moment of every day.  It may sound corny, but the simple beauty of a falling leave can, and has, set me off on a creative tangent.  Admittedly, there have been times in my life where I have sought to calm my wild imagination with the help of alcohol--and other nameless substances--in a half-hearted attempt to just be "normal". It is not for lack of life experience.  While I have not seen it "all", I sure as hell have seen alot.  So much so that it would probably shock those closest to me to learn exactly what it is that I have seen. And therein lay the cruxt of the problem.  The things that go on in my mind...the things that I want, no Need to get out on paper are bizzare at best, and downright off the hinge at worst.  In my dreaming eye I gravitate towards the dark side of life.  The dingy underbelly of the human condition is where I always felt the most comfortable exploring.  I know this sounds strange, but I like to search for the light in the darkest corner of my soul. Everything that I have ever written scares me to death.  Not because of the material itself, but because of what impression I feel that material may give of me to the ones I love the most. My mother is very religeous and I live in constant fear that any success I might have with what I have loved since the fifth grade may damage the relationship with the person I have loved since birth. I feel the same dread regarding every person that I hold dear in my life; my Father, my sister, my brother, my grandparents, my best freind.  In my heart I know they love me--and will continue to do so no matter what I publish--but my mind has tricked me into thinking that their love could be altered by what I have to say.  My, occasionaly, inteligent mind has given them all of the power over what I feel comfortable unleashing upon the world! That, however, was yesterday. Today I have rediscovered my love of writing.  I have started publishing my older stories online, and have even begun to write new ones.  The fear of being me has kept me from doing that for years now!  I will no longer give that fear the power to hold me at bay.  I have accepted the fact that some of my thoughts are downright insane.  I have also accepted the fact that the people I love will either accept  that same fact--or they won't.  I cannot control their feelings any more than I can keep mine at bay So now I do what I am told is the norm for the day and begin a blog...it is anybodies guess where this will go...I think I'll just sit back and enjoy the ride--and stop fearing being me!