letter to the editors

darling reader,

as you may have noticed in recent days,

i have decided to be more honest with the internet.

not that the internet was ever the one we were worried about. i've always felt comfortable with the internet. it's the editors i've been concerned about. the editors- who mention disapprovingly, as if it were in passing, a piece of my vocabulary they don't approve of. a stray "fuck", no doubt, who made it past my diligent self-censor. the editors- who want something else but this from me, who wish i would write more conventionally, who wish i would live more conventionally. the editors- who know very little and assume very much.

if someone (you, perhaps) were to read this blog, to click around for more than 30 seconds, it would appear that i had a severe writers' block from the month of october until now. it would appear it had been a long time coming; there's less and less every month since i came back from jordan. it would appear.

this is not true. i am the anti-writers' block, these days. i write every day, these days. i am, maybe, only writing, these days. but i have gotten painfully sick of self-censorship, and so nothing has appeared here for months. and now, as silly and cliche as it sounds, the time has come where it is impossible to do anything but say what i feel. this is no hide-and-seek, i am no pretender, and i can do no halfway-dance tonight.

so. although this will be painful, and although my most recent attempts at honesty about everything on the home front have gone over like substantially-sized lead balloons, i will write what i feel. i will be what i am. i am what i am, and no ultimatums of yours can stop me.

so, to the editors, to the disapprovers and the doubters, this is for you. these are all for you.