One of the best things about the internet is that it’s a great source of information. If I need to know something about what brand of phone to buy, for instance, I can go to Google and type in any number of things, including “What brand of phone should I buy?” and find a plethora of information. I have a wide enough following on multiple platforms that if I feel the need to solicit custom-tailored advice on a topic, I can usually get it just by asking for it.

Another thing I like about the internet is that it gives me an outlet for me to talk about my life, to vent about things, process my feelings, document what I’m going through. I actually find this very useful for a variety of reasons. I mean, first of all, it does help me keep track of patterns and things, recognize problems, and give me a way to supplement my own brain when my memory is unreliable or my perception of time becomes more than usually subjective. As a writer, I also just find it very helpful to be able to get stuff out sometimes. Self-expression is the foundation of creativity, for me. When I start censoring or second-guessing myself in some fashion, it often makes it harder to write anything.

The thing is, these two things? They are not related. I know how to ask for help. I know how to find information. I know how to seek advice. If I make a post that is talking about a problem in my life—be it sleep-related, technological, emotional, dietary, logistical, whatever—I will not leave you in a position where you have to guess if I need or want something. I will say so. If I don’t, then consider the post personal. I’m processing, venting, documenting, something.

If you can’t tell what the point of the post is… well, does it really matter? It’s there. It’s doing something for me. You don’t have to know what that thing is.