I have no
ragrets i mean regrets.
The beginning is always the most beautiful. Your complexion is pigmented with adrenaline and passion, your heart swells with idea for the future and you feel complete, whole and liberated. The beginning is my favourite part to any story. By now, you probably, most definitely? Assume I am talking about a relationship and how I stuck at it for a month… I suppose you could say I am in a relationship, just with my blog. By spark I mean excitement –not that kind of excitement you naughty- and I have to admit, it fades but it is still hot in my core.
Blogging initially, was to be my opium from the real world. I wanted to keep it on the down low, you know a John Smith or a Jane Doe blog, but the excitement bore me to accountability and I made it mine, but kept it private from those on my life. There’s no way around it, the reason I kept it my dirty little secret was because I can deal with people criticising me, but I’ll be damned if I let people criticise my writing. Plus, I’ve made some bad comments about my pops, not too bad, but bad enough for a pillow to the face! It wouldn’t hurt. But it would smug my Chanel foundation… Surely that’s physical pain? I missed out the part where people I knew found my blog, it was frustrating but I got over it.
Nevertheless, my one month of blogging has been the most refreshing of experiences, it hadn’t turned out the way I planned, but I love it nonetheless. The comments the interactions and the blogs of other motivated people all help build my blog because you’ve given me tips, applauded some of my rambles and I love learning from all of it. I’m currently cringing at how cheesy this is… I meant it when I said the beginning is the best part because this post is getting weirdly intimate… Anyway, I was going to do a May Favourites, but I don’t commit to anything for a month so I thought I’d post an embarrassing picture of me…
Plus it’s #ThrowbackThursday
This is actually the only picture I have as me as a toddler/adolescent… My pops was no David Bailey