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With this post, I’ll reach a milestone for my writing this year.

Over the last 8 months I have doubled the page views I had in the entirety of 2016.

It’s not a huge number, but it is to me. And it means that, slowly but surely, I have continued to increase my readership.

People create art for different reasons.

Most certainly, my art is just my own outlet. A way of expressing myself. That’s the biggest reason I write. For me. To clear my head. To release pent up thoughts, ideas, feelings, etc.

But I also write to share. And it’s incredibly satisfying to know that people connect with it. With me.

My last post was incredibly personal. I come from a place where certain things just aren’t discussed.

I think a lot of it is cultural. Southern people, in general, are kind and compassionate. But they can also be very much of the “Suck it up and deal with it.” variety.

And I think that’s where my two worlds collide. The side that desires to create and express freely, and the side that is often tempted to just keep some things to myself. Because, a lady doesn’t get too honest. And men sure as hell don’t show their feelings.

No, we’re often guilty of putting on appearances. Because that’s what ya do. Because honesty, authenticity, unexplainable and difficult subjects might make someone….uncomfortable. And we’re all about politeness.

Bless our hearts.

I hate pretense. I hate masks. I hate bullshit. You can be polite AND honest. Authentic AND unapologetic. And I’m trying my damndest to be both. Whatever the cost.

I can’t be the artist, or the person, I want to be unless I share the beautiful places, the inspirational thoughts, without also sharing some of the dark and lonely places my mind inhabits at times.

It’s full spectrum, or nothing.

I think my readers either find me brave. Or stupid. One of my writing friends talks often about having “imposter syndrome”.

On paper (or the digital device) we can write and express ideas with clarity and dimension. But oftentimes our thoughts and emotions are a scrambled mess. I relate to his feelings.

But I keep writing. I keep expressing. My art is part of my life’s journey. And it isn’t always pretty. I am human.

Thank you for taking the journey with me. Thank you for your kind words and comments. For sharing what moves you. And for keeping me honest.