Well, are we? It looks that way, doesn’t it.
In fact, I’ll tell you what I wrote at brunch on January 7th 2023, next to two people I love a lot and respect even more as we promised we would write (and I mean really write, the kind of writing that feels cosmic and world-changing, that would make the beatniks weep and the masters wail). Creeping over the hurdle of emoting like it was made of broken glass, I promised to them and myself that I would. I would write. Even better than that, I would try.
I re-read this old site this morning, after I reinstated it as an act of love again (because God what isn’t an act of love in writing, eh?) and I seemed pretty sad back then. My hope seemed dull and for the benefit of others. That’s painful to see. Compassion for others has always been my greatest strength, but for myself? Well, compassion for myself is a wildly unfamiliar bedfellow.
After my two-ish year hiatus, my searching, sadness, insistence, and potential happiness, I suppose we should see what changed…
07/01/23
God and now I have to do something, like actually practically do something and I’ve never felt such fear and insecurity but I’m not sure if it’s in a good way – what does it even mean? How am I supposed to navigate the decision t
[my pen runs out]
well, if that doesn’t sum it up, what does?
here goes nothing, I suppose.
I guess I said it right a month ago, with my shitty worn out pen and my aggressive handwriting at a table where my promises mean something and the faith in me feels unearned and warm…here goes nothing.
[25/01/23]
Georgie Broad 