You’re three drinks too far. You’re an hour and a half too late. You’re too many deep conversations gone to make this post make sense… and you know that’s when it’s most important to write. Too many people who know your first and last name read this. They know your fear of heights and they know how irrational your love for Ayn Rand is… and yet, here you sit. A partially unmade bed. A glass full of red wine and you in an unmatching socks without pants on waiting for words to come because it hit you like some perverse sexual urge: you had something to say.
But like usual, as soon as you sat yourself in front of the screen… the words disappeared. There’s a few funny things you could write, but even the thought of that makes you feel shallow. There’s a story you could tell, about him, and me and when I said that and he did this, but the thought of that makes me feel predictable. No…
Too many people read Dagnydarling now and know who I am. Hiding behind posts and poorly shrouded stories. They know the psuedonyms and the meanings. They recognize the girl behind the posts and they know her secret.
So this is the last post I will make. Following this I will return to the privacy of hand-written journals and the diaries I’ve stowed away since I’ve known how to write. I’ ve always known that I was not normal. Something has always been wrong with me, like I’ve never fully understood the rhythm my peers heard and I internally blamed myself for this. But that’s done.
My path is not the same as theirs. I wish them all well, and my heart is big enough to handle the pain and the well wishes at once. I forgive them all, and I love them all. My heart is big enough for that too.
As the last entry that will ever post on dagnydarling, I thank my readers and my subscribers in the most sincerest of ways. You have helped me survive struggles I thought would destroy me from the inside out. You have applauded my successes and mourned quietly alongside me in the way I could only expect other introspective bloggers to do.
Dagnydarling was a practice in blessings. In community and outreach and humanity. To everyone who has helped me through the past 4 years— I can only hope that you keep writing, keep speaking, keep pushing, keep looking for happiness and peace that you so deserve.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. And know that I am rooting for you, never far behind but never so loud as to out you. Your voice is important— make it heard and make it count.