The Mirror

Many times that I hear from friends and readers that's the very good thing about my blog is its a real mirror to my being. I have nothing--almost nothing--to hide, am adding my full name and profession, friends and my living neighbourhood, speaking about the very tiny and special things my eyes catches and my mind thinks.
Even though, I found myself attached to some code of honour, I merely break, that is my personal blog, I can say whatever about myself, but I may be very, so very cautious, speaking about others.
Sure I might speak like it's my own, also very own, perspective to see life, people living included, but there's a too slim line between that and the solid information about others.
What makes the thing worse is when am speaking--and am only heading this way--about people without naming them. It's a nightmare to hear questions like "Who's the person?", and it would be surely a living hell when people guessing the wrong pal. I feel like am a nasty guy, causes unwanted "noses' digging" into my friends' personal life, without any right or any guilt my friends' did but just being my friends.
Sure you can imagine how I could feel when I write sorta "Literature piece" about imaginary persons, or concepts!
I tend to save the very good thing about my space here, which being a real mirror--without masks like "novels"--to my being, sure mirrors have some tricks and everything, but it remains a translation for the one's structure, not a plain one for sure, but it can be amazingly sincere, but not really really "frank", by strict definitions.
I love my mirror here, and I do dedicate it to a small frightened young boy, called Al.