8 years.

It’s my 8^th blog anniversary this year (actually, it was two days ago, on the 6th) and I contemplated a lot on whether or not I should really write a post and celebrate it this year.  

Whenever I think of my blog anniversary, I always think of wanting to celebrate it nicely, celebrate it alone in a way that I would enjoy. But every year since I started giving it more importance (perhaps since 2018?) things have never worked the way I wanted them to.  

I don’t remember in 2018, but in 2019, I really wanted to hang out at a café, do the typical write-in-a-café-while-sipping-coffee thing. But I was in college, and September meant submissions so I couldn’t really afford to take the time off. I think I did go out with my friends, and had offhandedly mentioned to Arohi that it was my blog anniversary and she bought me a pack of stickers and made me feel all gooey inside for DAYS. Then in 2020, there was the whole pandemic and I didn’t have much going on life but I was writing so that’s all that mattered, there was no way I could go out so casually. In 2021, I had just started working at a new place, so even then I couldn’t go out and celebrate it in anyway. This year, I really, really wanted sit by myself and sip some coffee while I drew or people watched or wrote. 

But it has been a few heavy weeks and work has been so hectic and my productivity was low. I didn’t know if I would be able to finish work and head to the nice café, especially what with the rains and the flooding in my city. And this made me feel sad.  

I told as much to my friend. She thought for a bit before replying, “You can move around your anniversary, maybe? Since you’re telling me nothing has worked in the past few years?” 

She also told me that since it was my blog, I could do anything I wanted. So. then I thought: September 6^th is the day I registered on this website and not my first day of blogging (although, I’m sure I spent a lot of time figuring out how it worked and set up everything before actually writing my first post) so I went 8 years back in time to see when my first post was. 

It was on 8^th September, 2014. It was some random post—no, allow me to cringe—poem on how much I liked my language class. I was 17 with internet access and not a clue on how to navigate it so I dialled back my cringe. And then, I should really listen to myself sometimes, curiosity got me at the worst of times, so I clicked on the next post.  

I cringed hard as I read it. It was on how much I disliked pink and the writing makes me want to dig a hole and bury that post. I’m sure there are several more of these kinds of posts that should never have left my drafts. But it’s okay, because bad writing is still writing and one more step towards readable writing. So, it’s okay, I will still pat my 17-year-old-self on the head for her courage and absolute lack of shame and self-awareness but I refuse to read it again.     

Anyway. The plot keeps getting lost but the point is: September 8th might be kinder to me. I’m willing to give everything a try before giving up once and for all. 

Happy 8^th to me. I honestly didn’t think I’d be here, seeing as how rarely (which is closer to never, if I’m being honest) write on here. I don’t know if I want to be here next year. I might be, I might not be. But I guess it all depends on how it goes this year. On September 8^th. Not 6^th anymore.