Hey there.

Who have I been these past 7 years?

Whoever I was, there was a chance I was never going to be able to access her again. The server for my blog crashed a few months ago, and along with it could have gone a ton of writing that was my lifeblood, my fingerprints of the moment, my access to who I’ve been.

Spoilers: I got the writing back. Breathe. It’s all here now. Feel free to dig it up and make merciless fun of my melodrama (whether it’s from 2011 or 2018). Compliments and other comments are welcome too! While I can’t guarantee I won’t delete anything, I will try to be kinder to my writing.

But imagine. Put yourself in the shoes of me with a crashed blog. It’s been a strange 7 years, and I’m finding myself less and less capable of accessing who I was before now. It’s been deleted, all that writing, and I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to access it again. My roots, my past, the stuff I’ve forgotten and I don’t know how, because it’s me, it’s all me.

Which of my past selves did I care to preserve? I wouldn’t destroy any of them voluntarily, the same way I can’t throw out the ribbons I get with gifts or receipts from a night of adventure, the same way they might be useful someday. I can’t quash their potential. But what if they’re taken from me? The server crashed, my oldest blog posts might all be gone, the ribbons and the papers are in a potentially fatal fire. Do I go in to save them?

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