I started writing out of this like, block of space from my soul, nearly 20 years ago.

I started because I wanted to be a Cindy Lubbock for late-night radio reasons, although I wanted to be Wendy because of her hair.

But her words (Cindy’s) were about being a voice in the night, and I know I’ve written about this but I HAVE to write again.

They were about being a voice in the night and again, this is not a new blog.

I’ve said this before.

But when I started, I was inspired but it was totally not about getting people to read. It was pre-social media. I just wanted to write and help people feel less alone. In the middle of the night, or eight am when I was watching Vanderpump Rules because I got inspired by the emotions.

When I feel alone in the night, it’s scary. I want to be hugged; I want to be held. I’ve been afraid of sleeping in the dark since I was three and feared “The Sezzy,” a name I made up for the shadows that went over my wall, when all the adults were still up. So probably FOMO was involved.

And 20 years is a long time, to have been writing about my sometimes Alexis Rose, sometimes sitting in the dark in a basement experiences.

But maybe I can return. Because writing made me feel whole. This is even scary, like I’m closing my eyes that have tears in them, just to be honest and vulnerable.

And I don’t think I’m as funny as maybe decades ago, I could be.

But what if there is “even” “just” one person out there who might need my words.

To know they aren’t alone.

The best writers out there made us feel less alone. Sometimes so sadly like Sylvia Plath. Sometimes so hey yeah, kid life, like Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume.

Sometimes people just need to write out what their heart, brain, soul feel like. Even just typing this I am crying, because I’m truly hoping that it will make someone reading inspired to write too. Or at very best, know they are 100 percent not alone.

I’m older than I was when I started this blog. But like, maybe? Someone reading will feel less alone.