I read someone’s blog about secrets this morning and it made me ponder. I’m a secret worrier.
Okay, maybe it’s not a secret but I don’t think anyone knows what I worry about. I worry about my daughter knowing that I love her. I worry that I won’t leave behind a good impression. I worry that I’ll die without making a difference in the world. I worry that I’ll be forgotten. (Is that narcissistic?) I worry that the bad choices I’ve made in my past are what will kill me. I worry about things I can’t remember anymore. I worry that I’ve forgotten that I’m a bad person. I worry that I’ll lose my mind entirely and I won’t know it. I worry that I’ll lose my mind entirely and no one will notice. I worry that my grandsons won’t remember me. (Is that narcissistic?!)
I just realized you guys are my affair. I blog so I don’t cheat. Am I cheating with you? Some of the feelings are there. I want to tease you, titillate you, gather you closer, have you hang on my every word, expect to see me, want to see me, desire to see me. What are you wearing? No, I’m kidding about that one. This isn’t sexual. Not at all. It’s my escape from sex. My non-affair affair. This is where I come when I need some time to be un-alone alone. I wonder, will you be here, have you come and gone in my absence, left a crumb of your attention, a morsel of you to be savored so unsavorily….;)