The First Steps
Sunday, October 19th, 2025
I'm slowly starting to realize that it doesn't really matter what I decide to write in here. The style doesn't matter, the content doesn't matter, the length doesn't matter. This is my space to create in the way that I see fit. There is a bit of magic to this. I've created a portal into a realm that is designed solely by me. Whatever I see fit for The Creamery is what it will become. And right now it is apparently a place for me to fill with the constant yapping that exists in my head. All of the nonsense, all of the logic, all of the bits in between. Words echo in the chasm of my mind and as I hear them I invoke them onto the digital page before me. My fingers flash across the keyboard, a blur of flesh that continuously etches my thoughts into a world of virtual memory.
Of course, I could be more formal with the way I present these blog posts. Ruthlessly editing my paragraphs until they sounded like something meant for a corporate webpage. Dull, lifeless, boring writing meant only to curate clicks. Doing this might allow these musings to be more digestible by a general audience, but at that point I am no longer doing this for enjoyment. Rather, I am trying to attract attention. I'm seeking acknowledgement from others that what I am creating is good, is something that I didn't waste my time on. This should never be the purpose of art. At least not for me. It is imperative that I enjoy the things that I make or I simply wouldn't make them. When something is fun for me during the creative process, this is when I know the end result will be good. Pushing myself through writing a new song because I think someone else will like doesn't bring the same fulfillment.
For a long time I haven't been doing the things that I knew would make me happy, fearing that somehow other people would have a problem with it. Don't play music because it's going to disturb the neighbors. Don't play video games because you'll lose track of time and forget to do your chores. Don't tell people that you're uncomfortable because you don't want to offend them. All of these restrictions on self, on how I'm allowed to express who I am and what I feel. All of these restrictions created from past trauma, that are slowly unraveling as I do the hard work. So many of my former ideals challenged by the current version of myself, forcing me to focus inward. Carefully snipping away at the cords attaching me to old patterns, letting them float away in the stream of consciousness. Allowing myself to feel all the grief, love, sadness, pain, joy, and pleasure that was so desperately gasping for air.
The journey begins when you take your first steps out of the darkness. You look ahead and realize that you made it through. Perhaps there is a future after all. Perhaps you don't have to worry as much as you used to. Perhaps life can be worth living. Dust is falling off of untouched hobbies, unrealized dreams, and unmet expectations. Light is shining in the dark crevices of forgotten memories. Fountains of joy are billowing forth in the valley of your mind. Music fills the air and you are free. You are alive. This is life. This is love. This is