Well that didn't last long

Okay, I'm not ready to let go.

I've spent the last hour trying to keep my mind off of it. I surfed the internet. I made a post-it mural on my window in the shape of Mickey Mouse. I dropped a post-it into my radiator and had to fashion a sticky ruler so I could retrieve it before it burned up and exploded.

I did anything and everything because I didn't want to let myself return to this page. I knew I wanted to. I knew I was desperate. It was eating into me to think that I was keeping myself away from something that has essentially become an extension of who I am.

And just now, I started crying about it.

At the moment I'm trying to keep the tears from welling up. I thought maybe writing it down would help. It isn't. It's not helping me come up with an actual solution.

Because as excited as I was to finish this blog - to get to the year-mark and then just stop writing in it (or at least feeling obligated to write in it) - as I sit in my room on an ordinary evening when I should be doing homework but most certainly am not, I feel compelled to write anyway.

Maybe it's just because it's the first night away.

Like the day I arrived at college as a freshman and I cried about wanting to go home. My dad reminded me that if I needed to drop out, that it would be okay.

Well today, even though I'm crying about giving up this blog, I'm telling myself that if I need to continue writing in it, that would be okay.

I hope you'll agree.

Still, I don't think I'm going to do it with quite as much regularity. Maybe I'll still want to write a blog a day, but if I have a final the next morning, I will refrain and wait until a better time. Maybe in time I'll actually decide I don't like the pressure. Maybe then I'll stop completely. I have no way of knowing where the wind will take me.

I do know that at the moment, the dust has settled and I'm still standing here in front of my computer knowing that there's a place where I desperately want to write. Keeping me from that place because it doesn't fit into the mold that I designed for myself a few hundred days ago doesn't make sense. It almost negates the purpose of the blog in the first place, which was to have an outlet for my thoughts. If I no longer let it be that, then that's not fair to me or to the blog.

Right now I feel kind of stupid for giving into this urge, but I know I was right to do so. Because the reason I write at all is because it becomes an unavoidable impulse. I've become dependent on it, like a family member. And luckily for me, even though I've told myself it's time to let go, I don't have to if I don't want to.

So I'm making no promises. Not at this point anyway.

I've fulfilled my quota. I've done what I promised myself I'd do. I wrote for 365 (actually 366 days) straight. A full year.

But I don't know why I ever told myself that I only had to write once a week after. Because that's a whole new challenge. Waiting an entire week? Please.

I'm sorry if this comes as a surprise. It is for me as well. All I know is that I'm not ready to let go. It's weird to think that I can feel a sort of separation anxiety for something as inanimate as a website. But I do.

I guess it's just something I have to live with.