I still don’t know what I want to do. I don’t think my problem is unique: I don’t want to claim that out of the many people who have ever lived on this earth, I’m one of the special few who have experienced this, because I know that’s not true. I feel like I’m in a strange time in my life where I’m stuck between two eras: my childhood and my adulthood.

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I’ve always had a journal for as long as I can remember. My earliest memory of a journal was back in third grade. We were tasked with keeping a diary as a requirement for one of my classes. Each section was assigned a color for their diary covers: my section was yellow. I wrote about my daily life — I remember writing about that one time when a man picked up a dropped twenty-peso bill in front of me on the street.

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Hello again! I guess I am trying this out again. 👀 A few months ago, you may have noticed that I have unpublished my blog posts. My last public post — after having unpublished almost everything — was entitled The Fear of Being Seen, which basically describes everything I was feeling at that time. I’m honestly not quite sure if anything has changed since then. There is still a part of me that is afraid of being exposed, but, after tinkering with websites again, I just want to give this another try.

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