I’ve spent the last few years lusting after other people’s blogs, following some of them religiously, and jealously coveting the idea that if I wanted to, I could beat all of them. If I started a blog, it would be popular, beautiful and, most importantly, it would be cool. I would write out my hopes and dreams, opinions and desires, and I would be loved for it.
Yeah. Big dreams, huh?
These were big, unreachable dreams that resided only in the clouded delusions of my own imagination. I wanted the recognition that I thought that I deserved, and I thought that, once I had put myself out there, followers would come. My ideas would slowly seep out there, not just part of yet another forgotten blog, popular with a few lonely 12 year olds and a couple of really nice ladies who like crafting. Instead, I would have been great. The type of fashionable girl who follows blogs would get to know me and start caring about my the pieces of my life that I would put up on my blog.
But… sometimes you actually have to try this sort of thing out, and it’s not exactly easy. I tried having a blog over the summer, but it didn’t really work out (by “it didn’t work out”, I mean that I didn’t really care enough to update it). This year, I decided (on a whim) to revamp it and start over completely. I literally deleted everything I’d posted and started fresh.
This time, I’m just going to write whatever I feel like, post what interests me, and not give a flying fuck about what anyone on the internet or otherwise thinks of it.
Come at me, bro.