i am often asked why i stopped writing. why i allowed the ink in my pen to go dry. why i have a well sailing boat yet never explore the vast ocean. why i want to start again.

though you haven’t seen the silhouette of my sails across the horizon, i have journeyed. i have crossed oceans and often drowned. often felt too comfortable in the chaos, even used the sand at the bottom as a blanket. even smiled at the pain from liquid flooding my lungs.

but i’m not here to recount the details of the fall, nor tell you how i gasped for air and often thought i’d never see light. i’m here to remind myself that i resurfaced. that i will always resurface. that i am currently floating. to note how i’m mapless and don’t know my destination. how i’m not There yet, how i hope to never be There. how i’m learning to trust the journey and the creator of the ocean and the landscapes ahead.

my favorite blogger once wrote: to write is to kiss the same bullet that tried to wipe you out. (twentiesunscripted). while away, i found my truth in these words. the honest cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die truth that i write not because i want to but because i have to. because if i don’t i might lose my mind. i’m back because when everything else is stripped away, i’m left with me and my words and black tea in my system.

this isn’t a blog to tell you about the latest trends or things i’m into. it is not a platform for me to talk about myself nor impress you with metaphors.  this isn’t for good writing. I think that is where i lost my purpose last time i tried this public writing thing. i lost my purpose trying to find it in you. i lost it in recognition and likes and along the way i forgot my truth.

this is a space for documenting me. a filterless space for honesty. a space to say that i was here and i felt things and i wrote them down. i was here and i went places and i took pictures. i smiled and i laughed and i cried and i loved and i evolved. and i loved. this is for me.

thank you for coming.



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