Fear of Flying

I was encouraged to write, I felt encouraged to write. Then, I was told my words hurt. My first instinct (based on the martyr in me) says fine, I knew it, I won't write any more. Then, I'll write but I will hide. Then I thought the rest of the day, I obsessed on how I should move forward.

I want to explain. My words were not meant to hurt, at least not the party that took it to heart. I missed my mark and hit a target that is an innocent party.

I have baggage that weighs heavy on me. I don't know how, when, or if I will ever get to check that baggage. I'm afraid the restrictions will tighten, soon we will only be allowed what we can carry and it has to fit very specific measurements. We will never be able to check again. Only those that travel light will be able to survive. The rest of us are destined to stay in the same place forever.

I don't want to stop my fingertips. I don't want to hide. I want to share myself with others, if I hit a nerve (good or bad) I want them to share their thoughts with me. Yes, this medium can be as hurtful as any real contact. Sad but true, nothing, no place, is safe. If you put your heart and mind out there it's fair game. You can be taken advantage of, you can also laugh, learn and love. It's the same in real life. See and touching might make reality hit home faster, but reality always comes, no matter the situation, real or cyber. 

This is the medium that loners must use. I don't have a soapbox or a wingback chair. I just have me, myself and I and my fingertips to communicate at the level that is comfortable to me.