Time for a website… time for a gallery. Time for a journal? Time for something new, regardless. Blogging can be good for people, I think. I try to not talk about my personal thoughts much. Socially is terrifying, and privately is exhausting after the fourth or fifth or sixth time. But this is something in between, isn’t it. It isn’t a conversation I’m having, and it isn’t private, either.

I’ve always struggled with journaling. I never knew what to write. What am I supposed to write? I can follow prompts and answer questions just fine, but I’m not good at deciding on things for myself on my own. Am I supposed to talk about what I’ve been doing? Nothing, usually. I’m just waiting to be told what to do next. That’s no one’s fault but my own, mind you. Not anymore, at least.

No one is stopping me from doing things. If anything, I have all the support a person could need. My wife is wonderful and she’s patient. We’ve been goin’ at this Together thing for a decade already, and she’s still here. She still loves me… I love her too, more than I know how to show her, and even that sucks.

Anyways. I’m an artist, and I’ve never really brought in much money, so I’ve had to lean on her a lot, and she’s never pushed or forced or gotten angry with me.

My partner is happy to encourage me in anything and everything I want to do. They know I can, whatever it is. I believe in myself a little more too, I think. If nothing else, they’ve given me that.

I love the two of them so much.

…

What was I talking about? Oh, right, journaling.

I don’t have people demanding I do things. I just… need to be told what to do. Growing up, I was encouraged to push my feelings down and just accept what I’m told to think. It wasn’t done in a demanding way, exactly. My mom weaponized guilt against me instead. Disagreeing made me ungrateful and selfish. Asking for things we couldn’t share was pointless. Eating on my own always turned into making a meal for both of us. Most of my clothes were hers, too. The first thing she said when she got me a laptop, was that she had chosen the design of the top of it because she liked it, and would be happy to take it if I didn’t. It was one of the Dell laptops with the really fancy artsy tops. Does anyone remember those?

Um. I keep getting sidetracked, sorry. I think this is the most successfully I’ve ever written a journal entry though. It’s supposed to be just, thoughts, right? It didn’t devolve into me attacking myself. That’s good.

I think that’s enough.