Pilot.

So.

A slow Friday afternoon. I'm lying on my back, staring through a tired screen at what looks like a minecraft rendition of my boyfriend's face. Our calls tend to be extremely pixelated and very, very glitchy, but occasionally the gods of the internet bless us with a swift ray of high speed, enabling us to see the details on each other’s faces. If I could scoop up these moments, liquify them, trap that in a locket and then wear it around my neck, I would.

I lazily glance at his face shifting into and out of focus and I tell him about my newest little pipe dream. Writing a blog.

“Oh, I had one when I was 14”, he says

20 minutes and a million giggles later, he had finished reading out all of his posts to me. And I had never been more problematically attracted to a 14 year old.

“You should go for it, just start writing.” he said, and just like that, once again, one of his literary origin stories inspired me to make my debut.

And now I find myself, on this Sunday morning, sipping my coffee, staring at my computer and trying to figure out what I should write about. This is the hardest part, right? Finding my voice. Identifying what I would like to write about. There are so many ways this can go, and I don’t want to restrict myself by choosing a particular path that is impossible to stray from. I would like this blog to be a reflection of who I am, and who I am is a free flowing state of consciousness.

There’s no box I can fit into, believe me, I spent most of my adolescent years trying to find that box. I used to think that it was my duty to be able to capture my very essence in three or more adjectives, turning my identity into a bite sized piece of information, for the ease of everyone else. But now, I have come to understand and appreciate the fact that human beings can never be labeled as one particular thing. We are a farrago of all things wicked and wonderful. We are all paradoxes and our personalities are like tiny little lilly pads floating down the river of our collective experience.

Who you are is not fixed, its dynamic, its a spectrum. That’s what I would tell myself every time an identity crisis came knocking on my door. I put a lot of pressure on myself to find that one compact sentence I could use to describe myself perfectly. But now I know it doesn’t exist. And I’ve learnt to embrace the complexities and the chaos held in all the layers of my sweet onion soul. Never again will I try to water myself down to fit into someone else’s definition of simple and unproblematic. Who cares about that shit anyway, simple is often boring.

So I guess that’s what this blog will be like too. Free flowing and all consuming. A gooey puddle of stardust, spreading in all directions at once. Stick with me while I try to find my voice? I’ll keep it interesting, I promise.