I so often think of this place and wonder if there’s even a shred of the same vibe here that used to exist.
I wonder why I always have this desire to shout into the void that is the interwebs. Why is shouting into the void of a journal or a private word document less cathartic somehow? Why do I simultaneously wish to be perceived, witnessed and acknowledged… while also wishing to escape to a quiet Scottish island and create a new identity.
My thoughts are so confused these days, and I long for a place to verbally process the internal cacophony but even here I am fairly sure I would be judged for my so called imperfections - whether real or imagined.
Remember when the internet was full of people being imperfect in their pursuit of humanity and we just… let them be while they figured and processed stuff out?
I think that was a thing… once. Where we didn’t demand that people say exactly what we want to hear.
