This is it. I made it. 365 posts.
I set out wanting to make space to write everyday, with no pressure on content or length. And I’ve achieved it. Here I am, 365 posts later. Some are short and mundane, others are longer and more vulnerable. There’s gotta be room for both, and I’m glad that there is.
Still, can’t quite believe it. I’m quite stoked with myself, having maintained this habit for a full year, across countries and continents, inebriated and sober, I was committed to this blog and I saw it through.
What started as a response to a lot of pain, has morphed into this thing that has followed me through a year’s worth of joy and disappointment, insights and confrontations.
Anyway, I’m tired (because I had a lot of sex last night and only got 4 hours of sleep) and I’m going to go to bed now.
Until next time. Thank you for reading.
One day until this whole project is over. I don’t quite know how to feel. Maybe glad that it’s been a year since that first day? Maybe sad that this is the end of something I really enjoy doing each day. I don’t know, I’m a little drunk. I think I’ll be sad, but I’ll aslo be glad that this part is over now. It started because I was heartbroken. I’m not heartbroken anymore, and I’d like to not have any more of my life revolving around him anymore.
I’m so tired. My eyes have been wanting to be closed all day.
I keep thinking about how I’m almost at 365 posts and how bittersweet that is. I’ve posted every single day for a whole year and that feels pretty amazing to me. At the same time, it takes me full circle, back to where this all began, back to me nursing a broken heart in the only way I knew how – through words and tears. I’m not that girl crying in a cafe anymore, but I remember all too well what that was like, those painful memories are still familiar and very much alive when I think of them.
362 days ago I couldn’t have imagined I would be here though – finding love in someone else, having the time of my life with my best friends. So much can change in a year and I didn’t know that, wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me this is how my year would have played out.
Thinking about what freelancing would look like- would it just be a whole lot of schmoozing and copywriting? Cause I don’t want to do that. There’s something about selling things that makes me feel really gross. Gah but also, that stuff pays. And is an easy way to build up a portfolio. But does it sit right with me?
I saw J in the Insta story of a photographer I follow last night. It’s annoying and disheartening that I still get triggered by stuff like that, but I do. I know the couple in that photo – I was introduced to them as his girlfriend. I unfollowed the photographer.
Looking at house prices now makes me wish I had bought one years ago. Might have had to starve myself to get there but it would’ve been worth it right?!