When I was 15, I had a pen pal. His name was Peter, and he lived on the Island of Texel, way up north. We met during the four day marches in Nijmegen – my first. In the beginning, I wrote him letters once, twice a week. He wrote back the same day. After the next summer, I just turned 16, I got new friends and interests. I started to go out, worked after school, in short: my writing frequency got smaller. Once a week turned into once a month or less.
The fun I used to have in writing letters to him had turned into an obligation. I had to start every letter with an apology – which Peter accepted only after reproach. I felt guilty when I didn’t write. At a certain point, Peter sent me cards to remind me to write him. I ignored them. I ended the pen pal friendship after a couple of years. Not officially, though. I just never wrote him a letter any more. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I did not want to start every letter with apologies. I still feel bad about the way things ended, then.
At the moment, I am really busy with my job, and some social activities. I hope things will slow down in a month, but I’m not sure. Blogging activity won’t stop, but the frequency might be low. I could blog once a week – maybe less, maybe more. I don’t want to start each blog with an apology. I don’t want to make this into an obligation. I don’t want this to end the way I ended things with Peter…
At the moment, this is still fun.