Au Revoir

 

Before I begin my final post, I’d just like to say that since I’ve spent 3 years of my tender life on this website, I hope I deserve my readers taking five minutes to skim this through.

Almost three years on WordPress and I’ve changed, transformed, and shifted sides as not only a blogger and a writer, but as a person.

Three years is a long span of time in which a lot of things can happen. I’m sure that you’ve noticed that in the past few months, my posting has become infrequent, and a lower quality than my usual garb. Those of you that have been hanging around here know that I was so much more active last summer. It doesn’t feel fair to claim that this is an active blog when I can only post every few months, it doesn’t feel fair towards my readers that are viewing my posts, and it doesn’t seem fair to myself.

I shouldn’t even have to say what this means, but I won’t be blogging on WordPress anymore. And I’ve tried to write and rewrite and rewrite this post again and again, months ago, but it didn’t sound right because until today, I haven’t been ready to explain my departure. And out of all of the posts I have written on this blog, I’m finding this one is the easiest. I’m not masquing my words or feelings with pretty pictures, or brightly colored fonts, or darling greetings. All I am here to do is to explain my leave of absense, and wish a goodbye to all of you that have helped me along the way.

WordPress is a very bizarre place, because everyone is around that age where you don’t care about anything at all but simultaneously obsess over every little thing far too much. Everyone wants to live out their ideal lives through chronicles of literature, snippets of fun things they wanted to do, people they wanted to meet, places they wanted to go and things they wanted to see. And I was no exception, in no way am I trying to make myself any different. But it’s time to delete all the folders of headers and backgrounds I had saved onto my laptop, push aside my Lisi Harrison books, and log out of AIM, the same place that I spent most of my time complaining to the girls I met on here about how annoying blogging could be, but an equal amount of time gushing about all the things I wanted to write and ideas for new characters and blog headers and backgrounds.. I know it sounds stupid and cliche and just bizarre that I’m attached to a blogging network of teenage girls that I’ve never met once in my life, but WordPress was an outlet for my angsty annoying teen emotions, it was a diary and a writing course and a social network all into one. And I’m not sure where this post is going or why this is so strange and long, as I’ve never written out a proper goodbye to a website. I’ve loved every minute of my time as an elite Clique blogger, I’ve loved lying in bed and typing up posts, and getting overexcited when too many people are sending AIM messages at one time, and I’ve loved busting gossip girls and writing special posts about holidays, and it’s hard for me to imagine me spending the past three years of my life wasting my time on anything else than writing stories and sharing them with so many people. I’ve met so many charming and witty girls on WordPress that it would take me ages to list them all out, but a few that will always have a special place in my heart are  AmberClaire, Lola, and Natalie. Thank you for always talking to me, helping out with my blogs, and being overall groovy friends in general. Oh, and I suppose I should mention that I’ve met my fair share of assholes on this site. I hope that the people still blogging here won’t be, because just because you’re blogging as a queen bee doesn’t mean you have to act all rude. But I know that being sentimentally attached to a website sounds psychotic, and who knows, maybe someday I’ll come back and write a post to tell you how I’ve been holding up or talk about Kristen’s life when I’m on a break from school. And if you hear about me moping around for the next week or so, then you’ll know it’s because I’m coming to terms with letting go of the only nonhuman rock in my life for the past three years.

But for now, bon voyage, WordPress, you’ve been sweet.