I’ve arrived at what I sense has the risk to be an unpopular decision, but popularity is of concern to politicians and high schoolers. I didn’t care about popularity in high school, and I’m disillusioned with politics, so it looks like greater sense won’t be stopping me.
I want to narrate my life. Not every little piece, but as some form of exercise, and equal parts archiving, I want to take bits and pieces of my life as they happen, and package them into some sort of self-reflecting narrative form. It isn’t really like anything I put on here is often read, anyway, but I do recognize the potential to upset people involved in my life with my own account of my life, the people I interact with, and the instances I navigate. Of course, I would never want that, but I also recognize that I’m my own, unique person, and this is just something I am going to do. I only hope that my worry never materializes into something corporeal.
I also recently decided that I want to try and do something bigger with my writing than just writing insomnia laced uncogencies, and I am hoping that I can use this regular exercise as a stone of which I can sharpen my writing with.
And so it begins. I don’t really have an interesting or compelling life, and this feels like I am about to commit high level taboo, but I’m going to narrate it.