on how it all started
- November 11, 2025
First times are always a bitch. Starting something new is always messy.
And no—it’s not like I just woke up one day and thought, “Well, I’m unemployed, I’m single, I don’t know where my life is going, so I might as well start a blog.”
If anything, it’s worse. I’ve had this domain for years. I guess I kept waiting for the perfect moment, or better said, for me to be perfect. But neither of those things ever came. So here I am.
And one thing I’ve always known about myself is that I don’t want to live a life full of what ifs. I don’t want to look back in ten years and wonder what could have happened if I had just dared to begin. I’ve always tried to live in a way that leaves nothing pending. If something matters to me, I face it—even when it scares me. Because I would rather carry the truth, even if it hurts, than spend years wondering what might have happened if I had tried.
So, to be completely honest, I’ve been writing forever—quietly, secretly, almost like hiding. My memories go as far back as being 12 years old, typing poems and thoughts in the notes app of my iPod Touch, saving messages for “future me”. Sometimes it rhymed. Sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes it was just me trying to make sense of myself.
I guess I never really stopped. Whenever something was happening, good or bad, the words came. And they still do.
Am I scared? Yes.
Am I wondering what the fuck I’m doing? Also yes.
Is this good enough?
Am I good enough?
I don’t know.
But I don’t think it makes sense to wait anymore. The perfect moment isn’t coming. And I’ve run out of excuses. So after everything that went wrong this year, something in me just said: fuck it. It’s not like I have anything left to lose.
This is probably not going to be one of those movie stories where everything magically falls into place in the last 20 minutes. I’m not expecting a glow up or a magic revelation. This won’t be like that.
But it will be my story.