An abrupt farewell

Blogging is weird- once you get past the trial period of a few weeks and keep posting, it seems like you’ve signed a lifelong contract to keep going. When I want to stop, it feels like I’m actively choosing to break a promise to anyone who reads.

But I want to start writing things that aren’t blog posts. I didn’t have to do much writing for my high school classes, so this blog made up most of what I produced. I’ve wanted to write articles for other sites, perhaps join a student newspaper, or delve into more academic writing, but I’ve always known at the back of my head that I couldn’t do that alongside blogging. Blogging gives you a fierce sense of ownership over your work, and I didn’t want to have one more obligation when I ended college.

Lately, most of my posts have evoked a feeling of uncertainty, of confusion, and I’ve been constantly trying to make sense of it before college. The “For another day” section in my OneNote folder keeps growing. A few weeks ago, I finished a longer post and realized that “Hey, this piece could be a lot better if I waited a year and had more perspective. Heck, it’d be even better if I waited 10 years.” There’s a reason why people wait until the end of their lives to put together memoirs. Maybe it’s better for me to keep my emotions a bit more raw and private– maybe I won’t really figure out the consequences of my actions until later. My first semester of college might be better captured in random bursts of emotion, better for capturing anecdotes to use later. If I’m spending so much time in college reflecting, does that mean I’m not spending enough time living? If I were to keep up this blog, I’d constantly be haunted with the idea that I could be posting more.

I’m glad that I got to write so openly to the internet away from the pressure for “likes” on social media- finally after 4 years, I’ve become comfortable with publicly writing. And in many ways, this is disappointing. I wanted to keep this blog up until I got out of college. I dreamed of reaching 1,000 posts, 10,000 followers, 100,000 views. I wanted to be famous. But as of now, I’m still at a couple hundred posts (234 to be exact), a couple hundred followers, and a couple thousand views.

For now, I’ll be keeping posts up. I see a lot of bloggers making their blogs private, but I feel like a high school freshman version of me would have loved a blog like this, even (and maybe especially if) it were years old.  And so it stays.

My only hope is that when I look back upon this blog, I can understand the emotions behind everything, that this wasn’t just some stupid side project. I was never Adora Svitak, who can take ordinary life and spin it into something beautiful.

So to WordPress: it’s been a great 3.5 years (Blogger owns the other 0.5 years). I’ve enjoyed the freedom, and thanks for somehow giving me that feeling that I had to put proper and adequate effort into my posts.

To anyone who’s reading this: Thanks for reading. You’re probably the only reason that my posts aren’t literally crap. Look for me elsewhere.

If I still have the urge to write, I’ll most likely be posting on Medium. See you all later.


One thought on “An abrupt farewell

  1. So sad that you’re leaving, Amy, but I can definitely understand your reasoning. I wish you the best in wherever life takes you. :) – Lex


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