I always wanted to be a writer. I’m not too sure where I wanted a writing career to take me. It wasn’t money or fame that triggered my need to create. It was escapism.
Life was hard growing up, but I survived by living in my own world. Writing was breath to me. Creating other worlds and identities gave me a safe place to be.
Then I grew up. I got to be a writer, but not the venue I dreamed of. Although I no longer view journalism in a desirable light, working in the field was rewarding, if not completely satisfying. However, in my day, journalists merely reported the news instead of manipulating it.
Friends have asked why I want to blog now after so many years of a creative slump. I still think I have a story to tell. I just don’t want anyone to know who is telling it. I’ve been burdened with secrets most of my existence. It’s time to come clean. I’m not sure how to get things out of my system without betraying trust, hurting some loved ones, and revealing painful memories. It’s been suggested that I change names, times and locations. I could do that. But there will always be someone who won’t understand.
I’m no longer young. I don’t have great aspirations other than being happy and living a peaceful life. So, welcome to Pandora’s Box. If you stay with me during this journey, perhaps you will understand why I need to purge myself. Perhaps you will understand why some things are better left alone. And perhaps I can finally get the peace I am looking for.
Opening Pandora's Box 