What was I thinking?!

It's almost been a year since my first post on this blog. Waw, time flies! And not only in this respect. So I think I can officially declare myself an addicted blogger now. Or maybe rather a dedicated blogger. I try to post once a week, and unless I'm somewhere in France, where the Internet in the bungalow park is ridiculously expensive, I somehow manage to post something every once in a while. Still, there is much I still have to learn about blogging. I'm not only referring to polishing my English and my writing style, but I'm especially and more specifically referring to a fact I hadn't really taken into account until now, which is that the entire world can read what I write. Obviously I was somehow aware of that fact, because when I look at my Visitor Globe and when I spy on the whereabouts of people on Feedjit - which I recently renamed "I am watching you!" - I should have known better. However, recently something has happened that has opened my eyes, and I realise I should be more careful, not only with what I write, but especially with how I express myself.

You know, I see this blog as a place in which I can find some relief when I'm having a hard time. It helps me to cope with the problems in my life. Somehow, I share this with the entire world, I do realise that, but it's especially a confrontation with myself and my own world of thoughts. This blog has practically replaced my old-fashioned diaries. Since September 1st 2000, I've been writing regularly in a diary. It's a notebook in A5 format - called Atoma - and you can hardly find them here in the Netherlands, but the majority was bought in Belgium. I'm halfway number 21, so I've written a lot already. That's the least that can be said about it. At the beginning, I wrote in it on a daily basis. Sometimes in Dutch, sometimes in English or Spanish. Some therapists have read parts of the entire "thing", and some even recommended me to publish parts of it, but no thanks, that is just too personal. And maybe that is the mistake I've made on this blog. Maybe I crossed that boundary between "personal" and "too personal". 

Yes, I'm referring to a recent post, namely this one, and then especially to the part in which I wrote I was so angry that I could kill someone. And yes, I also wrote about my fantasies in which I shoot a handful of people. But people, please do realise that that is in my FANTASY world, and that there is a boundary between reality and fantasy, and that, if I stick to my meds, which I've been doing for a very long time, nothing of that will ever happen. I'm sorry if I scared some of you off, that was not at all my intention. So I think I should apologise for that. You know, I've been having these fantasies for 13 years now... 13 years, that is! And nothing whatsoever has happened. I'm not planning to change that. 

I'm a free person however, and I thought I could freely write about my - once again with emphasis - FANTASY world, but apparently it doesn't work like that. People get worried, even scared. That changes a whole lot of things, I can guarantee you. I've had four conversations today about the same topic, with four different points of view, and it's difficult to grasp the general message out of it, but I decided to follow my first thought, which was writing something like I'm writing right now. No way that I would buy a gun and go and shoot some people. People who really care about me should know that. So maybe, dear reader, you should get to know me better. Then you'll see there's no way that I would do such thing. Yes, I am a borderliner, and yes, I've been - and still am - quite unstable at the moment, and yes, you probably never know with people having psychiatric problems. Still... If you'd know how much love I have in my heart... for God, for my family, my friends, and especially my little birdie Chico, who seems to be on the verge of dying and leaving me forever... I'm not kidding, he's 7 and a half, which is fairly old for a common parakeet... I don't want to lose him, but he's getting worse every day. I'm so afraid to find him dead one day when I wake up. Every morning brings its own sorrows, but this is a particularly heavy one, and - as much as I dislike it - an unavoidable one...

My little Chico, how he is today, just enjoying his old age...

Anyway, I'll be more careful with what I write from now on and with how I formulate some things. I probably shouldn't write when I'm angry. However, I still consider myself a free writer, with freedom of speech. But if you as a reader of this blog thinks I'm going too far, no matter the topic, just write me an e-mail or post an anonymous comment on my blog. I'll appreciate it. Please don't react directly on my Facebook-link for the post in question. Then everybody will know about it, including my mom, and that is not good, not at all. For now I hope that I've reassured all those who had some doubts on that specific post. I'll make sure that I take my meds, in order to impede that reality and fantasy blend and that it becomes unclear what is reality and what is fantasy. Deal?