Forget it Jake.

For a long time I was struggling to get life basics sorted.

Then I did it. And then I realised I was trying to get above water for so long that I forgot who I am and where I’m going.

I remember loving art. Not in a pretentious shall-we-critique-this kind of way, but in a looking-at-this-makes-my soul-sing way. I used to spend most of my teenage years watching films – critically acclaimed films, predictable romcoms, European dramas, explosions-upon-explosions, I loved them all. I didn’t love them all, but I rarely felt that experiencing a film was a waste of my time. As time passed and I grew up, most of my time was going towards making ends meet and building up a foundation for a life I could enjoy, which means I had less and less time for films until I forgot I loved them altogether.

And then I did it – I made it to safety –, and realised I’m missing something important.

I’m missing me.

I was trying to remember what I want from life, but really, not what I’m supposed to want from life, or what I’ve told people I want from life. Who am I? What do I like? What do I want? What do I want to be like.

This blog is me trying to remember.

What’s a better way of remembering who you are than by doing something you did back when you didn’t have to do anything, be anything, want anything?

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