About two years ago, I started a blog.
It was not the first time I had done so, or the second, or the third. I’d had both a burning desire to write and a debilitating fear of sucking at it since elementary school, so naturally I’d been creating and eventually abandoning online writing outlets for myself for as long as I’d had unrestricted internet access.
And while those early efforts certainly had some value—as silly as it sounds, I am entirely serious about my frequent assertion that discovering livejournal at 14 changed my life—nothing ever really stuck. And if I’m being honest with myself, while I may have said otherwise at the time, I really didn’t expect this latest effort to be any different. I had resigned myself, on some level, to being too much of a coward, too damaged, too insecure, for my writing to ever be anything more than a childish hobby.
But then two things happened.