i’ve fallen into myself in the past two years, further and further. i’ve gone quiet, grown more guarded, stopped putting my raging thoughts and developments on full display.

i first wanted to write about this within the context of my blog and how i’ve written so sparsely these past couple years, however, i came to realize upon reading this song i wrote last summer closer; this manifested from a deeper pursuit of isolation. 

i chose at a very young age to prioritize vulnerability. i saw it as a way to hold me accountable. to explain myself very explicitly, unsolicitedly, to throw myself under the bus before anyone else could. to admire my own points of growth, to romanticize myself in the ways that i wanted to be seen by others, to make bold claims about myself so that no one else could claim to know me better than i know myself. 

that manifested in a blog. that manifested in the use of social media to paint pictures of where i was at, who i was, what i was doing, what i liked and disliked, what i valued, etc. that manifested in acting rashly to my friends as i reconstructed myself time and time again. that manifested in talking a lot about myself. that manifested in poor investment in others, and a kind of self-reliance that put such little emphasis on how others have built and continue to build me up. 

that manifested in keeping a kind of boundary between me and others. running away before getting too close, feigning closeness and intimacy by promising people the world while never really acting upon it. 

i attempted the impossible task of building my own narrative that could stand strong on its own. if people were acquainted with the idea of me, but didn’t have the grounds or authority to speak about me in an intimate sense, i could have more control that way right? 

how far i strayed from vulnerability! the construction of authenticity unsurprisingly pushed me so tragically far away from the mission i set for myself at the beginning. i didn’t even see how it was hurting others or hurting myself. stifling my own self-expression, stifling my ability to genuinely connect with other people. how an underlying feeling of guilt came to paint every single one of my interactions because i knew i was doing something wrong, but for some reason couldn’t quite place it.

i have spent months trying to make it better and i am still pushing myself in any way that i can. fixing habits, replying to texts once again, literally writing out lists of people i need to reach out to again (apologize to, if need be), and trying to tell people that i love that i love them more often… just trying to be a normal person again, honestly. 

i can talk more about where i think this came from eventually, while i attempt to articulate what i did and where it comes from… empirically (?) i guess would be the way to describe it? but i wanted to put this out there without trying to defend or explain a whole bunch. 

finally, i’m pushing myself to write more, so that i can really share with you what kind of absolute shit and absolute wonderful things and changes happen from 16 ’til 26. i feel like i’ve let you, as a reader, down in some way because i’ve tried to front with this image of completely understanding everything that was happening. 

but the point of this blog isn’t to teach or lecture! it’s supposed to be a place where i just write and candidly speak about whatever’s happening, whatever frustrations and confusions i have. i never will have everything figured out, so why wait to talk about it? 

so, i’m starting now. i’m almost at my 5 year anniversary of this blog, so that’s certainly as good a time as ever to take back my own impetus for creation and get it going once again. 

i’m back. and i can make the promise that i really am coming back. not because i feel like i should, but because i want to. 

to those of you who have still stuck around; whether as a friend or a reader or both, thank you so much.

i love you so much. 

this is empty palaces




*izzy angus, 20

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