this is a blog. no really. a real one.

remember blogs?

first they were web logs. then came the casual crop: blogs. from there, things got louder—vlogs, live journal, tumblr, microblogs. then social media happened and all our thoughts got shorter, shinier, introduced us to the algorithm.

then substack showed up, stole blogs’ glasses, and is now parading around like it invented the idea of internet rambling. and you know what? fair. it’s fun. it's clean. it's monetizable. they call them stacks now (which feels both cool and slightly threatening, like emotional jenga).

substack is where i go to whittle at my slightly nicer thoughts. a little pressed collar. a little punctuation. but this? this here?

this is a blog.

a late-night, post-shower-thought, spiral-into-oblivion kind of blog. this is where the ramblings go when they don’t fit into the group chat or a tidy little moral essay. this is where i throw the ideas that wake me up at 3:27am. like:

• what if the you you see in the mirror is just a rude mime, only showing you your current state, not a positive version of who you’re becoming?

• why do i trust my phone’s front camera more than my own intuition?

• is my dashcam going to capture my final moments, and if so, can someone please not sync it to a crunchy beat and upload it to tiktok with a caption like “fly high, king”?

this is the kind of blog where i can yell into my pillow about how deeply i resent the idea that my death might become content. or how impostor syndrome is just a sign of self-awareness gone feral, and that maybe faking it is the most honest thing we ever do.

also, shoutout to the blog for being the last place on the internet where i can go long, go weird, and go wherever the metaphor takes me. like how the universe is expanding at a rate we don’t fully understand, and yet i can’t expand past the anxiety that my voicemail still says “this mailbox is full.”

so yeah. this is my blog. it’s not optimized. it’s not branded. it might not even be proofread.

but it’s mine.

and like the best kind of blog—it’s just another net i’ve cast to catch whatever slippery thoughts are swimming around between my ears.

i hope you’ll visit again. or don't. the mime in the mirror already told me you would.