and away we go

i am a writer. i am not published and i have NEVER earned a penny for it but despite this, i am a writer. i've never been all that good "in person." i'm shy, pessimistic, clinically depressed and have really never felt comfortable in most social situations. i get tongue-tied and have perfected the art of the "smile and nod." but, god help me, i am great with the written word. paper (or, more often than not these days, the blinking cursor on a computer screen) is a silent spectator. it never scolds or judges, never condemns. it simply allows me to express myself without limits. like a muscle approaching atrophy, writing, my dear cherished friend, has been neglected for far too long. the plain and simple fact is that writing doesn't need me; it hasn't missed me while we've become estranged but i miss it. i want it. i NEED it. so, for the sake of my own precarious sanity, we are reunited at last. i can't promise that i'll write often but i will write. if anyone else chooses to read these words, fantastic. the thought that my words, my security blanket, might make someone else laugh, cry, smile, feel, fills me with terror and excitement at the same time. but, quite frankly, this blog is for me. i need some sort of routine, regiment, a reason to wake up in the morning - this is as good a reason as any. *deep breath* so, now we begin.