300 Profile Veiws

I have a flickr account that as of today has had 4,363 veiws. Though this tally only counts the number of times when an image in one of my sets has been clicked. So 4,363 times someone has clicked on one of the 2, 613 photos i have posted on flickr to get a closer look at them.
my profile on blogger says my profile has been viewed over 300 times. It doesn't give a count of how many times a particular post has been read or how many readers a week you get. so for all i know 300 time someone has happen upon my blog, 300 time for all someone has actually read anything i wrote.
or maybe just one person keeps looking at my profile over and over again hoping to find new details in it.
on occasion the most random people confess to reading my blog. confess to being amused by some bit of it or intrigued by the openness of it at times. but to this day not one of the 300 has ever commented in writing on my blog.
Now i occasionally peek at other people i knows blogs, but most of them feel like filler. just filled space with very little personal refection or original content. there is a whole ring of people in LA from my college with tumbler.blogs which seem useless to me. they are just collages of tid bits from other peoples writing or things they found online. they are all linked to one another and seem to exist mainly so not to be the only one without a blog in their circle. they are shallow profiles, and say little about them as creative people. too bad because many of them are highly opinionated and at time humorous, seems a waste. a poor reflexion of their perspectives.
I wonder if people don't comment on my site because they believe it will inhibit my writing. i will be honest one time someone told me all about my blog and the reasons they liked it and i had difficulty writing in for a time after that. i had this sudden understanding of expectations. i kept starting and stopping posts, leaving saved versions of thing i never published. felt a responsibility to my readers, but i didn't know what that responsibility was. i mean it not exactly the Huffington Post i am putting together here, hell i am not even a Tucker MAx. I have no focus.
I write everyday, an hour everyday. either in a journal, here, or in long letter to friends. you'd think i would be a better writer for this dedication but i am highly inconsistent person by nature. so even when disciplined at something, there is this odd undisciplined quality to my work. I like to say i am organic, my art is organic, my writing is organic, like vines or roots in the earth you cannot expect it to develop in a set pattern or understanding. it just kind of grows and takes on a life of it own.
i do wish i had some feedback, an understanding of where these thoughts go, but perhaps i am taking for granted the mystery. the romantic idea boys i have crushes on secretly read my thought, or perhaps someone whom knew me once peripherally enjoys it from time to time and was inspired to write more themselves. reflex more on it all.
well can be worried with all that. i love the feeling a keys clicking. i love those rare moments where i get syntactic and grammar close to correct. i love the few sentence i make that get my thought right.
i learned long ago not to be too worried about what others think of you or else you'll never get anything done.