Where Am I?

i’ve always been a book junkie. some would say a touch on the precocious side, so words have been with me since i was old enough to recognise what they were. when i started writing, however, there was very little intentionality behind it. i was dealing with the death of my favourite uncle just days before my 13th birthday and there was a restless tinge to my grief, like my heart was crumpling and my head was going to explode. on a whim i tore a page out of the phonebook and picked up a permanent marker, and a few minutes later my first poem was born. i haven’t been able to function without writing ever since, and i have piles and piles of journals chock-full of my preteen issues (reading through old diaries is scary, y’all), teenage angst and adolescent growing pains. as i continue to evolve, so do those musings. writing is intensely personal for me. i don’t believe in writing for the sake of writing (yeah i said it). for me to write is to feel, and if the latter is missing, writing becomes disingenuous. thankfully (or not), the combination of me being a libra and an enfj means i have no shortage of feelings, but the point is my pen and my limbic system are deeply intertwined. hence the name of this space.

so why did i start this ‘blog’?

there are thousands of blogs on this here interwebs, most of them geared towards visibility and a very deliberate message. they tend to be littered with imperative statements ranging in topic from how to grow natural hair to how to get your first million by the time you’re 25. i’m a consumer of many of those blogs, and think many of them are brilliant and have brought their owners great success. but by no means am i interested in reproducing them or being part of the blogosphere writ large. a year and a bit ago i showed a poem to a friend. she didn’t even know i wrote, and encouraged me to post it on social media. a few glasses of wine later, i did it. the flood of commentary and general warm fuzziness made me choke on my cheap moscato. it was actually kind of startling. but i continued to share, at least what was comfortable to share. at a point social media became treacherous territory and the words demanded a home. so here i came.

i wasn’t really sure what i was doing but i was doing it all the same. and now, a little while later, it feels like an intimate conversation every time i post something. this blog is not meant for mass consumption. it’s designed for those who led to its creation in the first place. those who stumble on it and then stick around. or don’t, even.

anyway. thanks for seeing something in me that i used to have to squint to find.

more words soon come.

– B

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