I’m unsure what was going through my mind when I started this blog. I know that for the longest time, I’ve wanted a safe space to pour out my heart and write about the things I was too afraid or ashamed to share with anyone.

The world feels like it has run out of safe spaces. Everywhere, words are scrutinized, opinions dissected, and silence often feels safer than honesty. Social media has shifted from quiet words and still images to fast-moving videos, and I’ve always been afraid of putting my face out there. So, for the longest time, I wondered: how could I express myself anonymously, without fear of being found out?

Who am I? Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to make sense of my life in the past year. Who am I? What do I stand for? What do I love? What do I want from life? And the most challenging question of all: am I happy? I don’t yet have the answers.

But I do know a few things for sure. I love books — mainly 18th and 19th-century love stories set in England. I love sad music, the kind that lingers in the chest long after the last note. I love rain, and the way raindrops sound on the roof of my building. I love autumn — the chill in the wind, the fading of leaves, the season that feels both an ending and a beginning. I hate summer and winter, the extremes of seasons. And perhaps most importantly: I LOVE BEING ALONE

Music of the Day: “No One Wants to Die Alone” by Benjamin Steer.

WANDERING HELEN