Not too long ago, I suddenly stopped blogging (save your applause I’m not finished) after having hit another bottom in my life. A life still in recovery from the devastating effects of past legal troubles and a sudden but reluctant return to the ranks of El Paso’s unemployed.
And lo and behold I had an epiphany of sorts. What can I say? I got woke!
Initially, I began blogging because I wanted the recognition–the views, the likes, the comments that I could use to validate myself as a good writer, believing that I have the potential to be a great writer and get paid absurd amounts of money for my New York Times best-selling memoir that chronicles my humble beginnings as a Word Press blogger and failed gigolo, which goes on to win the Pulitzer for best fiction.
But that’s not why I write.
I write because I need to. I write to remind myself that I’m still alive and that I refuse to leave this world without my voice being heard. That silence is not golden and I shouldn’t risk leaving my memory in the hands of others to tell my side of the story. Especially when I have the opportunity to do it myself. So this is take-two in the life of Benjamin Woolridge. Again! From the bottom!
Thanks for reading. Get at me, reader and tell me why you decided to blog in the comments below.