How fresh can a fresh start really be?
How do I know if I’m stale and better off in the compost? (I’d say bin but as a Kiwi in London, I’ve learned that’s a trap. And compost gives the impression of usefulness, rather than just being a gross, wasteful mess)
I haven’t blogged in years. I haven’t blogged consistently for yeeeeaaaars. When I did, it was a semi-coherent stream of consciousness that few people understood, and even fewer people followed.
Do people even read blog posts any more?
I’ve always found writing to be very cathartic. Mostly when done privately. I’ve even written myself letters (and posted them). Writing online is different. And the world has moved on a lot since I did this the last time.
The world has moved on, and so have I.
So why have a circled back?
Don’t worry, that’s a rhetorical question. Or, at least, a question for me. You don’t have to answer it.
And honestly, I don’t have an answer for it.
The last six months have been a period of significant change for me. But I’ve grown a lot in the 4+ years since I last wrote online regularly. I’m not sure quite how to describe the changes. Do I even bother? What is that worth, when you’re getting to know the me of the here and now.
I’m a lot happier now than six months ago, but I’m hungry. Hungry for life. Hungry for experiences. Hungry for what I know I can achieve when I set my mind to it. I always wanted more, but I felt stifled. Restrained. Held back from going for actually going after what I actually wanted.
I genuinely feel different now.
And I’ll feel different again tomorrow.
Come on the journey with me while I figure out who I am now that I’m in my thirties and full of hope?