when i decided that i would make a blog, i felt paralyzed by the task of its execution. how do i make it perfect?

i came to the blogosphere to escape the guise of perfection that veils almost every form of social media. i wanted this to feel raw and real. i wanted to shout my messiness into a void and not feel the heavy gaze of strangers, best friends, a girl i met at a bar four years ago, lovers past and present, even my future self.

how do i separate expressing myself from performing who i wish i was?

i crumple my expectations for self-expression into a little ball and chuck them into the wind. we do not evolve with any expectation for our end state; i am a newly-hatched duckling taking its clumsy first steps out of a freshly cracked egg, reliving this experience on a 24-hour cycle.

today i start putting my imagined self to bed. she is as disconnected from reality as the images i see scrolling through an instagram feed. just like deleting the little icon from my screen, i poof her off into the digital ether. sweet dreams.