I wanted to write something
...when it comes to externalizing thoughts and feelings, how do you determine the what, how, why, and where?
I wanted to write something. Something in its own space- words I want to put somewhere out there, not intended for anyone but myself (and anyone else who may stumble upon it). Something thrown to the wind of the storm, not quite a message in a bottle, but something left out in the world for someone to find. Perhaps under a rock, or in a hollowed tree. A rotting log among the bugs that make their home in it. That's my long winded way of saying that I don't think anyone will pay much attention to this site or blog very much and I'm just gonna say whatever I feel like.
I wanted to write something that sorts my thoughts, lines them up, lets me draw lines in between to make something that makes sense until I can figure something out, even if not right now. I wanted to figure out just what this blog will be, and what it means to me.
It's been a bit since the crushing weight of student debt has been lifted off my shoulders, in such a way that I tire to even think of how I can even convey it again, with how much I've run the thoughts ragged in my own head. Yet in the wake of such relief, I still have responsibilities, the dregs of all the self-perceived disappointments that almost a decade in debt and everything it brought left behind. I'm free- but I'm left to pick up the pieces. It's left scars in ways I sometimes can't even follow, and it's harder still to navigate and decode what exactly it is that affects what and where, to the point of not even knowing where this thought train is taking me. But it's something I continue to run my fingers over, over and over, trying to make out its shape, where it diverges and comes together, what it's trying to say.
Whether it's trying to say anything at all.
Websites- I've already talked how for the longest time I felt beholden to the idea of something professional, something that does the job, impresses prospective seekers- but for what? I'm never going to be employed, not by anyone who would care about that kind of shit. Disabled, unreliable, unpredictable, undesirable. But that's fine, I don't care.
Making this site has been a catharsis, a freedom, a wresting away from everything I've been compressed into in order to conform to a standard imposed upon me since birth. Being as profane as I want, returning to pet sites, planning shrines, making lists of the things I like, showcasing things in a way that sparks the synapses in my brain all to say that this was so needed. How silly it feels, that.
But it is what it is. And it's going to be okay.