As a book opened, this is not for you. It's barely for me. Exegesis.

Most people don't have to justify their existence, presence.

But I do. It's not because I'm special. It's because I have to fight to be anything past unremarkable. I worry about impermanence... falling into the untouched piles of data, the basement of meaningless digits. Graveyards containing portraits of expression. See:

I say this, but I am here and nowhere else. Not labeled by an uncaring name (more on names when I think of them later). I don't want to be found unless I'm searched for. And I want the person to undust me and maybe read the back cover or insert before sliding me back on the shelf. At least it's out there. Some manifesto.

So why do you pick this place?

I did have a MySpace. I didn't explore the world it offered much. Too young to really understand what was going on. Don't even remember its URL, and that page itself is lost to the basement of meaningless, unassociated digits. To have this page here now is to reclaim an alternate pathway of my youth.

I can write for an audience without thinking about stakes.