I’ve practically lived on the internet all my post-pubescent life. I’ve somehow managed to wrap around from immersion, to addiction, to acceptance and acknowledgement that I’m halfway in the real world, and halfway in our mess of ones and zeroes manipulated to create all manner of virtual vexations from ‘Insta Influencers’ to ‘Strategic Shitposting’. I’ve been here long enough to easily be the equal of any so-called ‘expert’ on internet culture, and yet all this time I’ve never had a blog.

I used to tell myself that I just didn’t have a big enough ego for a blog; after two years on Twitter I realized that was most certainly not the case. In the process of excising myself from that blight upon the tubes, I realized something–not only have I never had a blog, but I never even had a diary. Sure, I tried them in the past; none ever had more than two or three entries before I simply gave up. Was it my boring life? Compulsive playing of video games to escape a dreadful teenage life is hardly compelling–or even unique. Perhaps it was simply because I never considered who ‘me’ really was, and couldn’t take proper introspection? Sure, maybe. Was it because I lacked the ability to wax on about absolutely nothing of importance to anyone but myself and those poor few who are cursed to think as I do? You tell me.

I’ve never had a blog before, and it remains to be seen if I’ll have one now. To anyone who happens to find my inane ramblings interesting I say two things: one, thank you for your kindness. Two, try making your own website. It’s pretty fun spewing out nonsense without anyone to stop you.