Why I’m Starting Again

Sometimes it feels so singularly embarrassing to exist. If you’re anything like me — which I hope you aren’t — it’s exhausting. Remembering anything, making a small (or large) mistake, saying hello to a stranger and garbling the words, committing, realizing what you’ve committed to, comparing yourself to Instagrams, living in America amidst a global pandemic, living in Trump’s America (idk why that feels worse than living in a global pandemic, but it does), being invited to a Zoom call and then immediately trying to figure out how to get out of it, not finishing a craft (OR A WRITING PROJECT) that you started, surviving inside a burping, sneezing, digesting, hairy human body, can be soul crushing.

So that’s why I’m here. I guess.

To show myself (and you, if you’re reading this) that yeah, it’s embarrassing to live, but life does go on. There is a large sliding scale of discomfort and sometimes you’re at “getting your ears pierced” and sometimes you’re at “full pelvic exam.”

Right now, I’d like to think I’m at “rigorous cheek swab.”

So I’m writing again.

I do believe this is the ….third? fourth? millionth time? Maybe? That I’ve said HIIIIIIIIII I’M BACK!!!! And let me tell you, it feels embarrassing! But also, really nice to have a place to write. Because I have a lot of things to say and sometimes you read them and that’s good. I hope it makes the both of us feel less alone.

Originally I was going to make this post a list. But that felt too impersonal. Come back for pasta recipes, pictures of my new apartment (I got a purple rug), good TikToks, tru sad girl hours, TV recommendations, astrology, weird shit I’ve found on Amazon and beauty/skincare ideas.

love u

L

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