Who does read my blog, anyway?

When I first writing, it was just a mean of getting the heat out of the
steam pipes. Then I simply write, simply curse, simply empathize.

Then I get to know my readers.

First is of course my husband, whom is my editor, actually. Then I
figure out that everything that I write must be husband-proof.
Anything that will hurt him, slash.
Anything that will make him feel that someone's gonna get hurt, slash.
Anything that make him think that I am gonna get hurt, slash.
I somehow feel refrained. But maintain a secret blog (which you readers
can find out) which all the f words can go into.

Then I get to know that my readers circle are getting bigger.

Some of them are my seniors. Whom I have so much respect for.
Some of them are my close friends. Whom are so dear to me.
Some of them are just working with the same organization. With whom I
don't like to get my own department' inefficiencies disclosed to.

Then I'm torn.

But isn't being loud, clear and myself are why people love me in the
first place?