Blogging for My Sanity

Creating a blog two years ago was a great idea. Forgetting it ever existed was not.

I just remembered recently that I did create a blog in the beginning of the pandemic, and honestly I’m so grateful for past me. I’m surprised to read the blog posts I have here now, I can’t even remember writing most of them.

That’s the thing, though. I can’t trust my memory anymore. I’m not even sure what’s real anymore either. There’s a possibility I’m being gaslit, but maybe my brain just simply forgot how to brain, too. I think I have repressed a lot of relevant memories. Relevant to my perspective towards my family and how I feel about all of this.

I’m not sure how I will be able to explain here. All I know is that if asked for a testimony, I’m not even sure I trust my memory anymore. So starting today, it is a necessity for me to blog.

Blogging feels so much different than writing with a pen and paper. I prefer pen and paper. But since I don’t want my writing to be read without my permission again, blogging is my last option (as far as I know).

I’m not aiming for an audience. I just need something to show up in case I die and nobody knows what really happened to me. I want someone to be able to read my words and learn what my reality was.

I can’t even trust my own family to not have any agenda with my malleable memories, so I have to document things on my own.

I know my username “i am fictional” can really raise doubt, but I don’t wanna create a new blog because it might make my blog posts from this blog null and void if things ever get legal. I don’t know. I just want to clarify that I am indeed a real person. Please believe me. I am so afraid of the possibility that even in death no one would believe me. I just want to know what’s real again. I want you to know what’s real for me, too.