you know. i guess when you were younger, you didn’t bother whether or not that anybody’d read your posts, whether or not anyone bothers about what goes on in your life, and you wouldn’t really bother about ‘did she read my post?’. instead you’d be thinking ‘i hope she read my post’.
nowadays, whatever you write affects. back then, whatever you write, inspires.
i could write about my whole day, mention anybody’s names, and it would’ve been an entertaining read for a night- aside from it being a topic of conversation the next morning. still, i wouldn’t have cared less.
i suppose as you mature, you just begin to think that: you know what? i need my privacy. i need all the privacy in the world, all to myself. but humans are contradicting. as much as they want their privacy, they still long to be noticed, they still long for people to understand and experience all what they had gone through, via stories and expressive notes.
they still want to be heard.