Entry #1
Somehow all my accounts on social media are no longer mine alone. Yes, I understand they are mine and if I don't care about anyone else or anyone else's opinion I can post anything I want, but I'm not that, so I won't do that. But then I remembered this blog.
I always thought "blog" was such an inaccurate name for what I had created back then which was a URL composed of 99% other people's things "reblogged." Whenever I heard "I run a blog" in movies, they always referred to lengthy personal posts sometimes with photos but usually with self-written proclamations or stories or desires. At the time, I didn't have the courage to even imagine doing something as crazy as that: share my thoughts with strangers!?
And now I have reached a point in my life where it's all I can do. I am tired of carrying the weight of who I am, who I was, and who I want to be in every single conversation about myself. I think writing to strangers (assuming anyone will even see this) is the only way I can exist as I'd truly like: an entity of some sorts with no human body.
Unfortunately, the reason I'm scurrying to this corner of the internet is not very remarkable: a breakup.
Since I was a little girl I had dreamed of being in love. I had imagined my Prince Charming (or Troy Bolton) and I had crushes on the playground on the fastest boy in class and yadadada. Of course I learned over the years of the patriarchy and heteronormativity and the institution of marriage and how it solely benefits men and so on, so forth. I am glad I learned those things (I don't consider myself an expert, so I don't trust myself to try and preach about it to strangers).
But somewhere along the way, rather than fully letting go of this desire to be loved, it got smushed and hidden and shamed. And I KNOW again, how pure can that desire be given society. I wish I had processed and genuinely let go of it, but I haven't yet, and it's painful for me to keep shaming aspects of myself 24/7. So I'm letting the shame go for now, and just here.
Tumblr in the 2010s is where I fully became a romantic in the first place. Of course not a healthy environment--but I'm just gonna stop with the disclaimers right now. I loved reading about love on here.
Now, much older, I have loved and lost and done all the things I had dreamt about when I was younger. And I'm a bit beat up but nonetheless stoked and grateful for the opportunity. Little me, it's true: Yes, it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.
I'd been meaning to start journaling, but I admit: I'm lazy. Physically writing is definitely better for your brain, but a typed journal entry where you can process things is definitely better than none at all.
I'm excited to see who I can become when I can write this much, this often, and this freely. And fingers crossed I actually come back to this and this isn't just an embarrassing stand alone entry.
Due to the economy and the job market and my health, I am once again living in my childhood bedroom. Having to see such solid parts of my past really puts my current events into perspective: I've been through worse. A breakup sucks. I am sad and heartbroken and will pour my heart out here, but I'll be okay.
