1.2 billion

Fact: There are 1.2 billion blogs in the world, and 95% of them are dead.

I`ve lost my readers. I don`t know where I put them, but one minute they were here and the next minute: poof. Gone. Much like the keys to my scooter yesterday, which the man at the petrol station put in the bin by accident; leaving me to wander around the garage patting my pockets for twenty five minutes thinking I had finally gone senile. Thousands of readers, skamoosh: just like that. Poof. And I`m patting my pockets but I can`t for the life of me work out where you`ve all disappeared to.

Some countries have run away quicker than others. Japan? Almost invisible, now. America and Australia? Scuttling away as fast as they can. England`s still hanging on in there - thanks to my mum and my sporadically interested sister - and Eastern Europe is still checking in now and then, to see how I`m doing. But Asia? It`s pretending it never even knew I was here in the first place.

I can`t work out what it is I`ve said. It`s all been very sudden. I`ve sniffed my armpits and established they`re okay - normal after a morning spent pulling sweet potatoes out of the ground - and I`ve licked my hand and smelled it: seems fine. I`ve checked my recent posts and I don`t think I`ve said anything more offensive than usual - ignorant and stupid, yes, but no more intentionally than ever - and while my mood has been a little more erratic than ordinarily, I`ve been much worse. Even more worryingly, a lot of my hits now appear to be coming from people looking for "the biggest kissing lips in the world" (no idea: not me), "how to cook goya with natto" (don`t), "naked women in Japan" (plenty, but don`t look on the internet: they`re much nicer in real life) and "where to buy a male bra" (again: not here, although I might look into it). It all feels a bit like I`ve closed my eyes on stage, accidentally broken wind or stuck my middle finger up at the audience and then opened them again to find them replaced with a load of porn-obsessed, natto-obsessed, bra-wearing strangers who aren`t sure why they`re here either and are angry that they`ve been given the wrong directions.

I don`t want to care, but I do. I care hugely. I`m racing around, trying to work out what it is I`ve done. Removed myself from Facebook and thus insulted my friends? Yes: but not because I don`t like anyone; just because I need to focus on my own life rather than procrastinating via the lives of others (I am easily distracted by anyth Ooh, a cat). Stereotyped Japanese drivers? Yes, but only because it made me laugh. Stopped making this blog interactive? Yes, but only because I`m very shy and scared of what people might say. Accidentally insulted God and His Acts? Yes, but only because I`m neither very funny nor very religious. Admitted that sometimes I get sad, and sometimes I feel lonely? Stopped or continued talking about The Boy? ( I can`t work out which is worse, or which I`ve done.) Admitted that I worry, sometimes, for my heart`s future? Yes, but I`m also content with the path I`ve chosen, and aware that with the things I`ve given up I`ve gained the freedom I always needed more.

Of course, the answer`s probably simple: my writing has deteriorated, and I`m no longer saying anything that people want to hear. I`m talking when I should be quiet; making a noise - as my mum would say - for the sake of it. And so every single instinct in my body is now telling me to apologise, hide away, and stay there until I`m doing something interesting again and my skills improve. Until I`m on telly, or I emigrate, or I have my heart broken, or I sink into deep depression, which is what this blog has so far hung from: draped across the events in my life like a flimsy, whimsical cloth.

I`m not going to. There are 1.2 billion blogs in the world and 95% of them are dead. Which means that the internet is a sad graveyard of words: chock full of people who had something they thought they wanted to say and fell silent: who started writing, and stopped. Who lost faith, or got shy, or got scared, or felt lonely - who watched the readers leave and felt every rejection - and gave up. And if I follow them, then this will just be another dead blog. Just another pile of dead words on top of billions and billions of others. Just as useless to start with, but just as important. The basic human desire to communicate, which every single one of us should hold on to. And keep alive.

I`m not killing this tiny corner of the internet: it gives me too much pleasure, too much satisfaction, and it holds too much of my past now. And so - although I want to find you all again - this blog will continue regardless. Because it is my writing and my little life: prone to mistakes and tedium and repetition like anything else. Prone to bobbing along, sometimes, like anything else. Prone to continuing alone, regardless. And prone to getting better and getting worse and getting better again, and trying and faltering and trying, just as we all do. And refusing to shrink down and die with the others.

95% of blogs in the world are dead, and this will never be one of them. I`ll be here, waiting, if you decide to come back. And if you don`t? I`ll be here anyway.

Because - no matter who or what I lose - I will always be somebody`s Write Girl.










PS comments are back on. Call it a compromise. :)