The sound of my own voice

Alright, I’m just going to come right out and say it.

Comment, people.


I don’t do this for my health. Well, maybe I do it for my mental health, because it relieves some sort of need to vent my frustrations with the world– or my world, at least. But still.

Comments mean that I’m getting through. I’m connecting to someone.

And now after reading what I just posted, I have to stop and wonder.

Am I getting through to you? Does anyone give a shit about what I’m writing? Does anyone even read it?

Yes, this is another “Woe is me, nobody’s reading my blog” posts. Although I know people are reading my blog. At least 500 hits a day tells me that SOMEONE is reading my blog. They aren’t ALL looking for pictures of shirtless men (although it has helped.)

But what more can I do? What more can I say? I try not to let it bother me, but it does. I’m an insecure gay man. Shocker. As if you’ve never seen an insecure gay man before.

My picture is next to the word “insecure” in the dictionary. I should just change the name of this blog to “Insecure RcktMan” or something.

Do I need a new template? Are you bored? Am I too whiny? (Present post excepted.)

I know I’m bad about reading other blogs. I’m trying to get better about that. Honest. I love all of the people on my blogroll and I try hard to visit them at least twice a week. It’s hard. We all have lives and things to do and places to go. We all have jobs that keep us busy–whether it’s a desk job, a mother, a father, or whatever it may be.

But when I pour my heart out and ask for feedback and get none, it really wears me down. I actually hate the sound of my own voice… so if you hate it too, I want to know. I’ll shut up and leave the bandwidth for someone else to use.

Just let me know. OK? Thanks.