...why is it that this seems to be the only one I am able to keep?

I suppose the only real difference between this and the other blogs I've kept is that I know who reads this one. At least, in part. I know there are eyes on it, even if those eyes are friends behind a mask. I suppose there's comfort to be found there, especially since I have no idea if anyone's ever read anything I've posted elsewhere. There's just no means of tracking it. Not like there's much of that here.

So why am I here? Why, after getting shot down and stepped on by my mate (not intentionally, really. I was just proud of something and instead got an earful of freakout about everything I'd just overcome), and I come here. Not to my other blogs, not to my other friends, to this silent forum populated mostly by furry friends past. Why do I come here when my heart is damaged, like this would benefit me more than other places?

Curious, really. I suppose there's some meaning to it, some truth that I'm quietly afraid to admit. But it remains the same. I'm wounded, hurting inside, bleeding tears from my heart, and this is the first place I go.

It makes me wonder. I suppose that's reason enough. I'll ponder that and hope the pain goes away by the time I'm through.