It’s been a long time since I’ve visited this place, this secret cave that has become my online home where I can hide all of my vulnerable pieces in one out-in-the-open spot.
But it seems that I have roommates.
Whenever I come back to this blog and take a careless glimpse at my stats pages, I’m always taken aback at the number of days that pass between posts punctuated by the number of people who have rifled through the words here. I don’t mind! It just feels like someone has moved things three inches to the left – there’s just enough of a difference for me to feel awkward stumbling around, but subtle enough that I don’t realize it.
What could you possibly find interesting about this place?
I come to this bean-bag chair of a blog with the fuzzy blanket posts because I’m lonely, and I need to spend some time alone with myself, cuddling with the words of a girl who doesn’t exist anymore.
I come to this infirmary to treat the poison ivy of my soul, because out there, I scratch until I bleed and the scars freckle my skin. There are no mirrors in this place because ugliness is part of the charm.
I come here to multi-task and cry such gut-wrenching sobs that it turns into an ab workout. Sweat and grime only add to the decor and sweet stench of the place.
What would you possibly find interesting about that?
But to that loyal follower in the Philippines, to the fellow tea-sippers in Great Britain, to the reader who lives in my namesake city in Australia, to my remarkably large clan in India, to the salt-and-pepper shake of people sprinkled in the Middle East, to all of my silent and shadowy roommates from across the world, I say thank you.
Thank you for helping me pay the emotional rent of this place. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.