I started writing a blog in search of a way to be more personal with my writing. I write stories, some of the events have captured silly moments in my life; my first kiss or a moment of stupidity. It’s never been me though. I’ve hidden behind characters more beautiful, more adventurous. I could capture a character’s personality, like in the first few weeks of university when I came across as this small, ballsy thing.
I don’t want to hide behind make believe.
I also started writing this blog without a thought in mind what my muse was. Well, I was going to be my own muse but with my head so hectic it was going to be a mess in no time. But I’ve had time to think, so long in fact anyone who has been checking up on my blog would think this as a phase. My blogs not going to be a phase. It’s going to be a stage.
Not a stage in the way I peroxide my hair just because I thought blonde would suit me. I mean a stage in recognising who I am, where I am and how I am going to recover.
I’ll tell you a secret not a lot know, and I’m being a chicken doing this without a face and only a first name but I don’t care, I have anxiety. Which may make some of you roll your eyes because everyone has it these days but I want to help someone, and even if no one reads this and the only person I help is myself I’m proud of that.
It’s something that has stopped me from doing so much, and if writing about it has me doing one thing I thought I would never do I’ll be happy. I’m ready to be confident in myself and the things I do and trust the people around me. I’m only young, I deserve to live my life to the fullest.