I spent this weekend sick, in bed, dreaming strange dreams. Something about being sick all weekend has made me want to sit down to write. Writing used to be as natural and necessary as breathing. Now, it is a luxury that I have not enjoyed in years.
Last night, I watched Mike Birbiglia: My Girlfriend's Boyfriend. Birbiglia is funny, I guess that's his job, but I love his type of humor. As I laughed I was reflecting on why I stopped making my thoughts public. I think that one of the main reasons is that I used to take myself so seriously. I was so much more certain about things, I felt like I had something to say.
Now that I am less certain, I'm more prone to laugh at myself but am still afraid of hurting other people's feelings. I am not sure where that fear comes from. I'd love to feel free to laugh at my blunders and not feel compelled to "protect" those who might still feel certain about the things I am not longer certain.
Will I start writing again? I'm not sure. Maybe this is just a result of a weekend being sick in bed. We'll see.
