I suppose in the end it’s a desperate struggle to make room for yourself in this world, by leaving behind stories, hoping they’ll suffice and be able to construct a near perfect image of our souls. A carbon dating for the experiences we’ll have buried. It’s terrifying, the yawning void.
I used to be scared at times, that this whole blog will always stick around in plain sight, waiting to be discovered and traced back to me. But, oh, how much we’d rather be laid bare for the world than to never be looked at, at all.