I started the micro blog to give my free-flow writing a homebase. Light and inspiring. Cute and enlightening. Through my cat passing on, I wrote about it. Finding pennies on the sidewalk, I wrote about it. Mundane miracles that dotted my days and micro moments that dipped me into the perspective I want to have more often. But as I continued typing and posting, I omitted the rawness, the grit, the WEIRD that left it plateauing in cloud of "nice." Exactly how I've felt most of my life around people I hide myself from. Playing it cool and easygoing, painfully positive despite the roiling insides. And even in the elated moments, pulling back just a tad, not letting it all out. Doing a jig when I want to dance like a demon.
Just like water, I find my level. I build the courage as I get fed up with holding back. By the moment, I grow bolder in my fire that reaches to the highest branch. If it's already awkward, might as well burn the fucker DOWN.