This, Anyway

You probably shouldn't be reading this, anyway.

That's not a warning. It's more of an orientation. This is the kind of place you end up when you click one link too many — part journal, part scrapbook, part thinking out loud in public. The kind of thing you read at 1am when you're not sure what you're looking for.

I'm not sure what I'm looking for either. That's mostly the point.

I started writing here because I ran out of reasons not to. I'd been carrying things around for long enough. Experiences, questions, half-formed thoughts about identity and belonging and what it means to actually live the way you say you want to live. At some point, not writing about them started to feel like its own kind of dishonesty.

So this is me coming back to the table. Sitting with things I don't fully understand yet. Writing about them anyway.

There are no tidy conclusions here. Some things are just too complicated for a sophisticated bite-sized answer, and I've made my peace with that.

I started writing this for myself. Future me, mostly. The one who'll need to be reminded of what this period actually felt like from the inside.

But if you're the kind of person who likes diving into the minds of strangers —

welcome.