Poetic Melancholy

I do not know how to promote myself. All I know is that it feels highly unnatural. I am not the kind that can sell an ideal image of the self. What I do know is that I desire to be heard and that this desire transcends even the hesitations, the possible embarrassments, or criticisms that might ensue. What makes all of that pain worth it? You might ask. My logic is as follows: at least I am heard. That my voice is not silenced into the void, to never be apprehended again as the words melt into the space of time. I would feel emboldened by the fact that I have fulfilled my solitary life purpose, which is to share my words, even through the mediation of a mask. My identity might be masked, but my vulnerabilities and intentions are not. My privacy is the bridge that allows me to reveal such truths without fear of being tied down to my words. It is my safety net. I can reveal the contents of my soul without the fear of being reprimanded for it in the external world. Remember that, dear reader.

Never before have I held the desire to be seen, but now it seems to pull at my soul, a thread that beckons me forward despite my fears.

Therefore, take a look at my blog IF you feel inclined to. I believe in free will. If not, I do not blame you since they are mostly rambles that creep out of my rigid mind into my odd, personalized space. 

Enter if you dare

Okay, goodbye!