i'm gonna tell you a secret. i often look at the blogs of other women and think: i wish i could be more like them. i wish i could post more photos. i wish i could just present the happy image of myself. i wish i always looked good and put-together and vibrant.
and then, i remember that that's only part of their truth. the truth they wish to share. and i don't begrudge them that, not at all. it is everyone's right to put into their space that which they want to.
and thank goodness for that.
while it's often that truth that i wish to share, it's not the truth i know how to share. and probably, even if i was able, i'd get bored of it in no time.
i sometimes wish i didn't post stuff like this--stuff that seems more soapbox than anything else. but then, a part of me reals and goes, yeah soapbox but... still deserving of a platform--still needing to be heard. still important.
and because this is my space, and because i want to remember what i was thinking and feeling and being shaped by in my twenties, i am gonna post soapbox stuff. and write about goldfish filled purses. and not post pictures for months at a time because i'm feeling not terribly pretty. it's all a work in progress. nothing's perfect. no one's perfect. and no one blog, no one post, no one essay, or even collection of writings is the whole truth.