Open books

   I realize it has been some time since I have written in my blog and that my blog entries have been  few and far between these days. I would love to blame it on the many events that have been inhabiting my life this past year, and though they have kept me busy a great deal , alas I can only blame it on my lack of desire to write.

   You see writing has some how, and unknowingly to me, become a great deal to me. I do so enjoy writing. I love the surge of energy I feel running through my mind, down my arms, and spilling on to the keyboard/pen as it comes rushing through my fingers while I write the words that I hope come across witty and poetic. Almost lyrical if you will.

   But recently I have found it easier to keep my thoughts; my words; to myself. I've had many a thoughts running through my mind lately.
 
   I like to fancy myself with the idea of very few people truly know how to read me inside and out. And it's true ... not many can. Sometimes it's a curse
   
   I don't want to bore anyone by going into some sob story and I don't feel like being an open book for others to read ... then again isn't that why we choose to write - to become open books?

   Or would we rather write factitious stories? Illusions to make people think our lives are either greater or worse than than they really are.

   There's a saying/quote that says " There's a little bit of truth behind every 'just kidding' ". I almost wonder though if we could change it a bit and say "There's a little bit truth/reality behind every fictional story". Maybe with that outlook we would begin to not only write differently but maybe even read differently. You're only going to get what you choose to get out of something you read. If you choose not to understand or look deeper into what you're reading then you will never know.

   Maybe some of us should stop hiding behind fictions while others should learn that reading the title of a book does not mean you know nor understand the story.