{and their hearts were held in fast suburban chains}

I used to think that blogging was integral to my life; that I would still be typing up posts and sharing gifs well into my nineties. I can't pinpoint when, exactly, so many people decided that blogging was a business. Gone are the days of Livejournal and Geocities pages where you chronicled your life, your passions, your frustrations. All of a sudden people were paying other people to display their blog button, companies were sending bloggers free junk to peddle, and the Internet got a whole lot meaner. Daily posts were not only expected, but had to be filled with custom-designed graphics or photographs that were edited. Blog branding was at the forefront of everyone's minds, and designers cashed in on the trend. 

I've paid designers to overhaul my blog, and I've spent hours scouring the Internet for the "right" combination of fonts when it still didn't feel like me. You need three, you know. There are rules. I've lost hours of time in Photoshop trying to figure out just the right nav bar layout, and image mapping my links. I've paid and been paid in the blog ad game. 

Guys, I'm exhausted. 

Even now, two months after my last post, I'm still left wondering why. Why does it matter, why do I care, why do I miss it? I don't have answers to any of those, but I do know that I miss writing. Whatever that means. I'm not having an identity crisis, or a quarter-life crisis so it feels a little melodramatic to say that there are things that you just need to write down, and not writing them down just isn't an option. 

Why do you blog? Is it for fame and fortune, to document your life or your child's life, or just because you have more to say than Twitter can handle? 

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