To be the inspiration or to be the inspired?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Morton’s Fork.”

If I could only either write my blog (and not read others) or read other blogs (and not write my own)

I’m not 100% sure what I’d pick straight away. It’s quite a tough one for me because I don’t really think that my blog is an “inspirational work of art” as I just rant on about my thoughts and feelings. I seek advice and try, when I can, to help others. It’s really my online diary, to be honest. So my answer would be read others because the answer is always out there, you just got to ask the right questions. I think I could learn a lot by just reading other people’s blogs on a certain topic that is on my mind that day. I think I need more help than I could give out.

However, I would really miss blogging because I’m finally get my thoughts out there and there is someone who listens, which always makes me feel better. It doesn’t make me feel so alone and that my voice does actually matter. I haven’t told anyone about my blogging because I’m afraid of them laughing and reading it. My posts contain thoughts that I have never let out before, which might be consequential if the wrong person reads it.

I guess it’s a bit silly, but I quite like having my own little secret safe haven where I can truly be me without worrying or second guessing myself.

I know I’ve kinda gone off course, but when my mind goes off on a thread, it’s quite hard to reel it back in.

Anyway, what my point is is that I would rather read other people’s blogs as I think that I could find solace in other people’s experiences and their voice that they are sharing to the world.

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The new me

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “New Skin.”

There isn’t really anyone or anything that I like so much that I’d want to be them for a year, if I’m going to be really honest. I know I complain about my life, but who doesn’t? If I had the chance to edit myself, then there are a few changes that I would make. I would skip a few years so that I’m older, but not too old. I would have a husband who, will hopefully, be handsome and we’d have 2 daughters, Anastasia and Katherine (the names are still debatable). I’d be a fully qualified paramedic and I’d be saving peoples lives. I want to see if it’s really me and if I’m happy with my life.

I don’t care if people think that that’s boring, but that’s me. All I’ve ever wanted is to have a job that makes a difference, a husband who loves me and children.