For those playing along since the beginning, you know the quote that started my blogging:
 
“I can’t stand drama queens, but I am unable to relinquish the crown.”
 
At time when my life was in turmoil, but necessitated a very put-together façade, I turned to writing again to unleash all the emotions I couldn’t share.

 
And I wrote about emotions.  The specific details were often exaggerated.  For the most part they were true to some degree – although not always.  While I think the school-girl (and completely harmless) crush I had on a new friend while in the middle of my divorce would probably make him laugh, I’m not so sure his now wife would share in the chuckle.  (Actually, she probably would.  She has one of those tight-faced laughs for when she’s uncomfortable.)
 
If you read what I wrote about him?  You wouldn’t think so school-girl and harmless.  Or maybe you would.  That’s the beauty of writing.  Half the time the things I put down I don’t know what they mean – I turn to the readers to set me straight.
 
But as the reader myself, going over those old posts?  I cringe at the idea of him reading them.  Of trying to explain I was lonely and fanciful and I would sometimes grab onto a person to tie those fancies into words.
 
I really viewed blogging, for myself, as writing.  And I mostly write fiction.
 
But off and on, it’s become more, well, blogging to me.  If I’m going to write fiction, it shouldn’t be between trips to Ireland and school applications, right?  I started to feel that I was hiding behind that “fiction” label – a get out of jail free card.  Don’t like what I wrote?  Don’t like the person portrayed in it?  Don’t worry; it’s not true.  It’s not me.
 
When the new boy and I broke up, it seemed blogging enhanced the drama.  I still remember reading about his brother-in-law’s suicide for the first time.  I remember checking my stats to see if he’d stopped by.  It felt coy and junior high and looking back, I really don’t see what the big deal was.  We had a thing, nothing serious, and it ended.  Yes, it ended with bad timing and confusion and a lot of other shit going down in my life then, but still.
 
Of course, blogging also has enhanced the good as well as the bad.  TG fell for my eyes, my tits, my sarcasm, and my words.  I loved to stretch the euphoria of a good date out on the screen without worrying what the guy might think.  But as the relationship went on, and it was more than just a date, the junior high feelings crept back.
 
ST fell for all those things too, of course.  (Oh, and the gray streak in my hair.)  And  with him, I’ve never felt the need to censor or pass notes in study hall.  (See, right there?  Fiction!  I’ve never attended a study hall in all my life.  I had “free periods” in which I could do pretty much whatever I pleased.)
 
But also with him, I’ve felt a peace I’ve never had before.  There is no drama to share, despite the fact that sometimes I feel my life is more pressured and hectic right now than it ever was.
 
So have I truly relinquished the crown?  And if so, can I ever be a good writer again?