When blogging hurts

Words are written so easily. The silence of the page hardly rebounds. Keys fall loosely, fluidly, without a sound. Mute and rhetorical.
Thoughts overflow upon a hungry white screen and they cannot be diluted or dammed. Emotions seep in drunken abandon.
They create waves, like ripples, ever widening.

Somehow things such as this lie beyond ideology.



Blogging, as with life, work, school or any other place where individuals gather into groups within a group has it's own rules, hierarchies, cliques and tribes.

I don't really fit in. I'm too much of one thing to be another and too much of another to be just one :) Most of the time I just scribble out my heart even though I know I'll never be a writer. Feeling the release of simply letting words fall out from fingertips. Realising how hard it can be to quell the flow.
Or I might record small moments of beauty and grace in this little space here. Staying out of the way like I did at school. Mixing a little with every tribe, still happy to be alone, doing my own thing.

Bullying in the blog world, seems to be getting worse. Maybe I'm just noticing it more.
There are blog parodies, with their very own blog buttons. The purpose of their existence being simply to ridicule other blogs. So much time and effort spent on negativity. Feeding distrust and division.

It makes me so deeply sad. I can't explain why. Somehow it reminds me of the rush predators get when they smell a little blood.
Fraying threads of red glint in blue vastness, and suddenly there is a feeding frenzy. All the fish in the sea clamoring to take a bite.

A few days ago, somebody may have said something a little off key, maybe their words could have been chosen differently.... but the reaction, like a landslide just got bigger. Till everyone involved became knee deep. Mired, smeared, dirtied. I watched on the sidelines half guilty observer, half paralyzed by dismay.

Feels like something bigger than a blog post became damaged somehow.

Grace, is such a beautiful word. So underused. Thrown around as if it were a rag doll, yet how easily broken to pieces like china.

So many things distract, harm, hurt.
There is a woman, I know only through the letters she types, she is really different from me, but today I felt her pain and alienation.
And the subtly of bullying disguised as discussion.
Thin veils these computer screens.
Still not so much between us and the world. As between us and our true selves.