Once Upon a Time


Fairy tales. We cling to them as children and let them seep into our lives as we grow up. We fall for heartless people hoping for a happy ending, and a fling with a boss is suddenly a Cinderella story, not a path to unemployment. Because every story that's worth telling starts with once upon a time. Even if it's once upon a time I slept with my best friend's ex-boyfriend.

So I ask myself, how do I start this story?

From the moment the idea of starting this blog sunk into my mind, I've been plagued by first lines and misshapen sentences that sounded profound in my head but looked ridiculous on paper. Even in all my resourcefulness, searching for the right topic hasn't been easy. What makes a good story? More importantly, what makes a good storyteller? 

Tavi Gavinson, Leandra Medine and hundreds of more equally talented young women that managed to start something great from the diary-like musings and a need for self-expression that bordered on compulsive, definitely get some inspiration points for that. Is that all it takes, though? Could it be that easy to be that good at something you do, as long as you love every minute if it? Can one write a brilliant story as long as it's their own?

Everybody's got a story to tell, the question is, how do you tell it? Well, as I mentioned earlier, every story that's worth telling starts with "once upon a time".


Once upon a time there was a girl and she had secrets. Intimate ones, dark ones, and even scary ones. But most of all, the ones she couldn't share. The thing about secrets is that they have to get out sooner or later. Otherwise, one might explode with a psychotic breakdown to rival all psychotic breakdowns. So if anybody asks me why I started this blog, my answer would be, to fend off insanity. Or at least that's what I thought in the beginning. Now as I'm writing this, I'm starting to realize that intimate things are considered such for a reason. They're not easy to share; they don't hang off the tip of your tongue. Worse, they get stuck in your throat and clench into the fists of your palms. So maybe sharing is not easy after all. But you know what is? Make-beliefs. Yes, Make-beliefs are very, very easy.

From now on, consider everything I tell you a work of fiction. Don't believe a word I say—it's all imaginary friends and rabbit holes. I will try not to bore you with mundane stories of a day to day laundry variety. Perhaps I'll keep the names safe and the places obscure anyway, just in case (for the Mad Hatters out there), but only because a little discretion is always in order. 

Until next time,