It’s been years since I thought of starting over.
It crossed my mind multiple times, in small, subtle ways. The want to rebrand, the need to have a clean slate. A new place to breathe in and share my thoughts to online strangers who’d listen.
For years, I held on to my old corner of the internet. It was the blog I built when I was braver, maybe younger, and definitely more restless. It gave me things I never imagined: an audience, a way to make things happen, and the comfort of knowing I have a place to go back to when everything else fails. It felt stable and familiar. It was like that one room in the house that I outgrew but never really wanted to leave. Because to build something new? That’s too much work. That’s hours of quiet fear. That’s questioning if anyone will care.
And so I stayed. I stayed because it was safe. Because I thought maybe I didn’t have to start again. That I could just keep patching holes, painting over the cracks.
But something inside me knew: I was longing for something quieter. Something gentler. A space that felt more like who I’ve become and not just the version of me who built and built and built until I was too tired to enjoy what I made.
So here I am. Letting go of an eleven-year-old story. Letting it rest. Letting myself rest, too.
I want this new corner, this small coffee-fueled page, to feel calm. To feel like slow mornings and soft words and the courage to say, “I don’t have to be loud to matter.”
I want to write stories that heal gently. I want to share tiny moments that feel like sipping something warm when the world becomes to much and overwhelming.
Am I still scared? Of course I am.
But from my journey, I learned that it’s okay to be scared when you begin again. It’s okay to want softer things. It’s okay to want less noise and more life.
And this is mine. A new page, a new space, A softer start and a quiet promise: I will build slowly, gently, warmly. And this time, for myself first.
Thank you for finding your way here. I hope you stay.
