People having access to my inner-most thoughts really undermined my mystique as a leader. I recently held a leadership position at my school. If you don’t remember I was a avid substacker last spring/summer. In the fall, when I was trying to convince people to audition for a play I wrote, I was talking to a dear friend. They said, “I don’t know. I see right through you. Especially when you write all that stuff online.”
I had predicted that this would be the case. I decided to take down all of my substacks. I had uploaded some of my plays. I just left those. I was a writer and artist, and I was trying to be mysterious.
However, I’m back. Not being mysterious.
As a writer my beliefs are like water. I try to stay away from writing manifestos. I don’t believe my writing is a reflection of me. It’s a place where I can find perspective. But the person who wrote this is not the person who will publish it. She is not even the person who will read this back later in my life and cringe. My perspective evolves from the words that I wrote down for you to read. I have a life beyond writing. Often times I write about something I am grappling with, so no wonder I evolve as person after writing it. I believe my writing is a reflection of my writing.
What I’m trying to say is, don’t believe everything you read on the internet especially if I wrote it. A lot of the time I’m just shitposting while making fancy stylistic choices. Is anything really concrete? What even in the truth these days?
Between writing and producing a two plays, writing a column about sex/relationships for my school newspaper, and being a student, I have really missed my place of shitposting. I really miss my word salad. I hate writing emails. Why do I have to write so many emails?
But seriously, I feel like everything I write is going to be judged. So I’m coming back to my place where I can write whatever I want. I’m shitposting again. Strap in motherfuckers.
ily
Thank god cause substack needs you