inner/outer

I'm an introvert generally. And intensely private, guarded about my neuroses.

Which begs the question as to why the hell I blog, really.

I made a half-arsed attempt at anonymity when I first began - the whole 'fishboy' moniker, etc. But it didn't last long, people found out, friends and family began visiting the site. Which lead to inevitable self-censorship. Well, more accurately, even more censorship than I normally perform.

Then I started to get a fairly sizeable readership. Well, by my terms at least: I'm no Avatar, Sarsparilla Vanessa, or Fraser. Not even as well visited as ysengrin, Michelle, or Claire. But having even 15 to 20 returning visitors a day is freaky enough for me. The imagined pressure is too much for me.

Hence my lack of anything resembling a 'real' blog post on Effing for months.

The knowledge that people are reading my words and knowing, even a little, about the workings of my mind and my view of the world is a little terrifying. Add to that the fear of being misconstrued, of people not really understanding my PoV.. it's all a bit much.

The scariest bit is the possibility that they might actually figure me out. That I'm not as complex, conflicted, twisted and interesting as I think I am. Heh, that's all bullshit really, I don't consider myself that complex, although I appear to be more interesting because I conceal so much of myself.

I don't know where this is going.. Just another dissection of my neuroses, except this one's a lttle more public than the usual introspective self-flagellation.

Don't worry, I'll go back to commenting on dead people's funny names and bizarre occupations shortly.