2am
The sun was out today, at least for a little while. There was not much for it to shine on. I have had trouble recounting my days lately. A friend of a friend, fuck it, a friend, accidentally reminded me of this little blog. I couldn't help but ask myself why I created it in the first place.
I never intended to put any effort into harboring an audience. I chose a platform, the lovely Bearblog.dev, precisely because I had never heard of it. I made a single post about things that made me laugh. I wrote several drafts that read more like the rants of a man on the verge of breakdown than serious, refined journaling. I never intend to publish those drafts, either. I am also wondering, at this moment, why I am typing. I think I'll publish this, but why?
It's a bit disingenuous to suggest that all these questions first occurred to me as I am writing this out. I mulled over all this on my trek home from some shitty bar. All that mulling has given me a sort of answer.
I think the purpose of this blog was to have an audience, even if I never intended to build one. Hell, I never intended to produce content worth reading. Still, the idea of an audience is alluring. It is all an illusion of which I am a willing participant. My disbelief is suspended. The audience I imagine in my head provides me with all the treasure and glory a real live audience would, while side-stepping the anxiety it would bring.
I'm addicted to pleasurable patterns of thinking like this one. It's all I seek out, really. Pleasure, that is.