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I recently stumbled upon Sloppy Etymology’s blog when her post ‘Writing is cheaper than therapy or drugs‘ surfaced on Freshly Pressed. I think she’s my twin. [I shared it to my blog yesterday; you should definitely check it out. She’s awesome.]

When I started blogging on WP, I thought of this as only my own. My blog, with no intent to follow others. My blog, releasing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, sharing my emotions, without concern for others. WP always advertised the ‘reader,’ where I could go to find popular or new blogs and relate to people like myself. Relate? Are they crazy? Surely, relation is impossible when the strictest of confidences explode without anonymity online. Alas… I somehow stumbled upon Sloppy Etymology, and I swear she must have stolen those words from me somewhere, though I don’t remember writing them.

When you find someone who relates to you on so many levels, you constantly attempt to draw further parallels. I’m pretty sure we are two different people, but I’ll be damned if I don’t feel like I’m talking into the mirror when we comment back and forth. In seeking these parallels, I want to know more, more, more. But, as Sloppy so eloquently put, baring one’s self online is trying and excruciatingly painful. I can’t ask any more of her than she has already laid out, but I want to know! I want to know how we are alike in so many ways when we haven’t even met.

It’s the strangest feeling, to have a perception of blogging that is 100% self-absorbed and to come out of a reading experience a completely changed person. To want more from this blogging community, to want more than just sharing myself. Instead, to want to share others. Perhaps it’s my 101 degree fever talking, but I meant what I said in my last post — Heart-wrenching drama on a Bright Shiny Morning — in that I want my ‘followers’ to walk alongside me.

Because your ominous words have left me dumb-founded and raw, Sloppy, I’m going to open the door for you to establish the boundaries of this twindom. A little something that you’ve inspired by, well, being inspiring.

What I mean is*…

The words spilled out of you
Like blood, fresh from a wound
Splattered against the stark white page
Inky stimulation of the mind and the senses

The grass is always greener,
As they often say, glazed and hollow words
But I know as you express from deep inside
That the grass has rarely been green

Pain leaks from your pores
As happiness radiates from your fingertips
It’s a cataclysmic reaction, the epitome
Of life, love, and loss, and you’re not alone

Can’t wait to know you more, can’t wait to know you better, since I feel like I already know you.

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*”What I mean is” copyrighted from Sloppy Etymology’s blog.

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