Accept Thyself: A Daunting Journey

It is amazing to see how something can go from looking like the best idea ever to looking like a dire mistake in the short span of 24 hours.

After publishing the first of my old blog posts last night, I spent about three to four hours going through the entries that followed it. When I exported my posts they were spat out in XML, which rendered them poorly formatted for copy and pasting purposes (you know, the easy way of doing things).

Naturally, I couldn’t leave it looking like that, so I had to get to work editing out the nonsensical characters and organizing everything by date. I also needed to remove any blatantly personal information, typos, grammatical errors, unintentional redundancy, certain individual’s names, and excessive expletives (I was quite fond of sailor’s speech back in the day).

Sure, the work ahead will be positively tedious (I’ve only gone through 2.5 posts so far), but I strangely enjoy searching for errors. What I haven’t enjoyed as much is reading the things I had to say about myself. This is why I now wonder if I’ve made a mistake in thinking that I should share these old writings. I am afraid.

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I’m Falling, But Don’t Bother Catching Me

I’ve been blogging since before I knew what I was doing had a formal name. If my memory hasn’t failed me, I started my first blog back in 2001-2002, respectively. A very good friend of mine at the time knew I loved writing and suggested I join her in posting on Livejournal. It was one of the best things I ever did.

The Internet has changed a lot since the early 2000’s, and blogging is no exception. For that matter, a lot about me has changed since then. I was about 13 at the time I started writing about my life online, so I have an extensive collection of blog posts that span the last 18 years of my life. Outside of a handful of my closest friends, I never publicly advertised the fact that I had a blog (heck, I don’t even promote this blog), so my posts have been seen by very few—until now.

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Mother’s Day: Pondering The Past And The Future

First and foremost, I want to wish all of the mothers (and mother figures) out there a most beautiful Mother’s Day. I hope that everyone takes time out today to celebrate and reflect upon their own mother (be they biological, adoptive or otherwise) because I believe it is important to always acknowledge those who have made a contribution to our lives—however large or small that contribution might have been.

Secondly, I’d like to just say that as great as your mother may be, mine is like, waaay more awesome…no offense. Okay, so maybe I’m being a bit cheeky (What’s new?). All jokes aside, my mother is truly one of the best women I have ever known and I’m not even being biased due to sharing half of my DNA with her. Read More

There Is No Recognized Phobia For The Fear Of Infidelity. Trust Me, I Asked Google.

Hi, everyone. This is a poorly thought out, spur of the moment post about my crippling, possibly irrational fear of being cheated on. It will be long, it will be candid and it will be mildly entertaining embarrassing. Enjoy.

When I was a young girl, I genuinely believed I had everything all figured out. I’d be married by 25, with child by 26, and we’d all live happily ever after, amen. Boy, was I stupid as a kid! I will never understand why my mother allowed me to watch so many Disney movies growing up. I am convinced that those were the original Nigerian scams.

That being said, screw you, Cinderella and Snow White. You’re both liars and con artists peddling bulls—t to little kids. Jasmine and Ariel are both like, waayyy better than both of ya’ll, but somehow you two are always considered “the real princesses”. You and that sleeping beauty girl that nooobody ever remembers. You both just suck. Go. Away.

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Oh, If Only I Were Stunning And Interesting

So there’s this guy…

Wow. I can’t even focus my thoughts enough to type what I’m trying to say. Get it together, girl.

Okay, let’s try this again. A few days ago, while I was simply minding my own business, this guy randomly entered my periphery. I honestly don’t know where he came from, which may sound really strange, but humor me for a moment.

Something peculiar happened when I first saw him. I instantly felt as though I needed to get to know him. Now before I go any further, let me just confirm that I personally find him to be gorgeous. Naturally, he’s quite enjoyable to look at, but his physical appearance genuinely had nothing to do with this initial attraction. In fact, I didn’t even realize how beautiful he was until I’d been “observing” him for awhile.

I say “observing” because I have no clue how else to put it. “Watching him” sounds creepy AF, like I’ve been conveniently lurking in the bushes outside of his house with binoculars every time he showers. That is definitely not the case. I can’t say that I “know him” either because I don’t; I only know of him.

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I Only Ever Dream Of London

I’ve had a lot of dreams and hopes in this life.

Some came true. Some didn’t.

Of what remains, I’ve mostly given up on ever attaining them. I say this not because I am a defeatist or “negative Nellie” (or negative Nell, in my case), but because I am too tired.

I feel as though I say this a lot these days—this, “I’m tired.” Of course, I never say it aloud because it isn’t something anyone would properly understand. I mean, if someone was ever around to hear me.

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Girl In Bloom: New Place, New Me

I’m finally able to see the finish line. There are only three days left until I can move into my new home.

Gosh, it feels so weird.

Tonight will actually be my final night here in the condo, and I’m surprisingly sad about it. If you would have talked to me back in February when I first arrived out here and told me that I’d end up hating to leave this place, I would have laughed in your face. I remember my first week like it was yesterday: I absolutely hated this place lol. Everything felt foreign. And I don’t mean foreign like “Oh, everything is new and I’m not sure where anything is”, but foreign as if I’d spent my entire life on Pluto—alone.

It took me a ridiculous amount of time to get accustomed to living here, but I’m not entirely sure why. I have moved an absurd amount of times throughout my life, so one would think that I could swap states like it’s nothing. Normally, this would totally be the case. I’ve always jumped at the opportunity to check out a new city and have new adventures, so I thought this move would be a cakewalk. Well, that isn’t exactly how the story went this time around. For the first time ever, moving to a new environment left me feeling vulnerable, out of place and…a little scared.

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