Confessions of a libra

I wanna thank me, for being the best | Credit: Here

24.07.25

I’ve felt like a writer long before my words ever reached you, yet its developed much differently than I could ever have foreseen it. I started this blog shortly after my knee injury last year. It was supposed to be a creative reprieve, something to distract from the pain and disappointment I was experiencing at that time. This blog began as a place to explore my writing the way I used to love doing on Inkpop, Figment and eventually Wattpad. I experimented with both stories of my lived experience as in the first blog post ‘Oscar Winning Tears – Gemini Edition’, and fiction like ‘Persephone’s Trip’. I did invoke Lilith in my bio, unawares at the time that I was consecrating the blog. That’s just so me to be accidentally magical.

The momentum of this blog didn’t pick up until this year, post knee surgery. I wrote in May, a single day one week, 5 days the next and soon I was writing every day for a span of 6 weeks straight. I have written through so many life and bodily changes, in just the last couple of months alone. I went from just exploring my creativity to writing heart-centred beliefs, based on everything from theories to lived experience. Since starting this blog, I have made ruthless cuts to anything that no longer belongs in my personal life. As such, I have actually removed some of the closest people to me, who had survived earlier culls either by luck or spirit. If I still had unfinished business to learn from them, that period ended this year.

I am oddly more alone, and less lonely in equal measure. Watching my blog reach viewers in America and spread widely across Portland and Scarborough especially – brought tears to my eyes. I feel like next time I come visit your country, I will have to go to the places my blog travelled the fastest. There must be kindred spirits there, waiting. I would like to acknowledge and thank all my readers from every country thus far; Austria, Georgia, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Portugal, Singapore, Slovakia, El Salvador, Vietnam, Brazil, Spain, Italy, Japan, Nigeria, Sweden, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, South Africa, Kenya, Poland, France, Saudi Arabia, Uganda, Denmark, Ireland, Pakistan, Philippines, Canada, China, Germany, Bangladesh, India, UK and of course the USA.

The bulk of the new international viewership has occurred in the last two months alone. My consistency with posting has allowed my words to reach more people from the far corners of the interwebs. It is truly an honour and a treasure for someone with as many 11th house placements as I have, to have an international family of like-minded souls I can commune with. I have been in chronic pain since the inception of this blog. I have written while on medication, I am writing while suffering from a terrible cold as we speak. I have been awfully feverish and surviving on panadol, vitamin C and prayers. Yet I show up to write because it has always been great catharsis for me. Now that I feel and see my words guide and liberate others, it’s impossible for me not to show up.

I have been so raw with you guys, similar to how I would be if you met me in real life. Did I foresee at the start of this year, that I would be telling you guys about my having had a foursome with a previous partner? No. But now I get the honour of modelling my personal value system. I have oft thought that talking about more taboo subjects like sex or money would make for a better society. Not talking about sex openly and relying on porn to be your sole educator is a losing game. Learning about finances through people’s lived experience is incredibly powerful if you let it. I have subscribed to the school of thought that gossip can be a tool for empowerment.

Gossip has often been a tool used by women since the dawn of time to exchange ideas. When gossip was associated with femininity, then it de-valued the practice. Though that would have been on purpose, to allow patriarchy to flourish by guilt-tripping women into policing each other (or themselves). I love a slightly-relevant tangent. With each new blog post, I have liberated both myself and my ancestors. With every blunt poetic take I have delivered, I have spoken aloud in their language the things that many of them were never allowed to say. I have risked being ostracised by wielding my pen. Yet in this life and the next, I would always pick the side of the truth. I would pick being seen as strange, when I have an inner conviction. I can see why I was never built for religion.

Some people genuinely need the extrinsic framework for morality. I will always use my inner compass to guide my moral decisions. I will hold up the religious doctrine to the purity of my heart and make a judgement call. For every female ancestor who has ever had to compromise her own value system, to serve a more oppressive system – I let the words bleed out of me with thanks. For every male ancestor who had to hold the weight of the world, without reprieve or emotional support – I let my words be a dagger and a balm to the menfolk who read my blog. I want for you what I wish my ancestors had, the freedom to exist as a full spectrum human being – without worrying about gender binaries.

I have recently talked about softness needing structure. The magic has always been in my words. I have always had affinity for language. I have drowned myself in books, in daydreams and spent hours writing unfinished desires disguised as stories. I always come back the practice, even though I wasn’t consistent. I felt the call and answered it many times. Sharpening and honing the skill every time. I did it happy, sad, unsure and even embarrassed. You don’t think I was embarrassed to be writing and plotting whole eroticas as a teenager? Had I known my words would feel as glorious as they do now, I would have done it with more pride.

I could have let my dreams to be a writer stay in my head. I could have centralised my feelings of embarrassment at the topics I chose. I was often laughed by boys I knew, sometimes even men as I grew older for my love of romance. They could acknowledge my intellect, but somehow thought romance books evened the playing field. I think as an adult, I can see that I have always seen the intelligence in romance. The lessons, the fantasies and the realities. Romance has always been to me a vehicle for the love that we all desperately crave but somehow want to pretend not to. Many of us want to experience romance, yet suddenly it’s a shame to indulge in the concept? It’s less valuable? If you’re unable to see depth and complexity everywhere you go, that sounds like a limitation to me.

Bringing it back to structure. I never let societal standards about my chosen artform get in the way of my discipline. When I wasn’t experiencing writers block, or even when I just felt inspired, I allowed myself the play. I have written in so many random notebooks over the years. Journals filled to the brim, I have a box of them. I have several storage folders like Onedrive or Dropbox FULL of half touched stories, scenarios and concepts. I have novels to write – really good ones too – that are awaiting the path that allows me greater freedom where time is concerned. Time and good health.

Show yourself devotion by showing up to the things you care about. Even when no one knows, even if you only have one consistent cheerleader. Hone your craft privately, you never have to share it if you don’t want to. Imagine the pride you will feel when one day the thing that brought you joy in private, is publicly acknowledged. I also hope to encourage in women specifically, that you speak your mind more. I certainly do and it hasn’t killed me yet. Just learn how to play the game, you have to have finesse. What I don’t want you to do, is walk around being agreeable because it’s easier. That erodes your soul. For all my audience, I hope to encourage you to walk in integrity, cultivate self-love and self-trust. Hopefully our future generations can benefit from this little seed. To every word that kept me alive. To every sentence that broke me open. To the next spell I haven’t written yet. Asé.