Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist

I’m staging a protest as we speak. 

A decision was made, against my will, to stop me from writing. It’s rude, it’s cruel, it must come to an end. The perpetrator of this order should be outright ashamed of themselves. 

They claim this decision was made only with the purest intent in mind: “This shouldn’t be viewed as a punishment,” the executive order states, “but rather as well-prepared protection of what could be.”

What could be? So all of this is to protect myself from a hypothetical situation that has not occurred and has no signs pointing towards its occurrence? Got it. 

I will admit, protests have been attempted to be staged before, as drafts #1, 2, and 3 can attest to, but they know they’ll forever live in my heart.

For this protest, though, I’m taking a new approach.

I’m going to look this executive order right in the eye and do exactly what it doesn’t want me to do: write. 

I’m going to write freely with no regard to whether it is ‘good’ enough or not. I have the desire to write, so I will do exactly that: write.

I’m not saving myself from failure and embarrassment by not writing, I’m robbing myself of art expression, and peace of mind.

I’ve been so terrified to write due to a self-inflicted fear of not being good enough. As if that’s why I write, as if that’s why I started this blog. 

I started this blog because I love to write. It makes me feel grounded, expressive, and honest. I also love to talk about myself.

I had found myself to be a recently graduated twenty-something year old attempting to navigate this complex world. I knew I wasn’t alone in the thoughts and feelings I had while embarking on this new journey. I also knew if I didn’t write about them (or make an appointment with a psychiatrist), I would let all these thoughts and feelings consume me. 

That’s why I write. Not to gain fame and glory, not to impress, not even to be offered the role of Mary Todd Lincoln in Broadway’s Oh, Mary!. (Although my schedule is open)

No, I write because I like to, and I want to, and I love the pronoun “I.”

My final act of protest on this page is closing my eyes and clicking post.