A few months ago, I went searching for my teen years online. I dug through my AOL account, read a couple of AIM transcripts I’ve saved for a decade, and finally, googled my way to an old, old, old blog. Reading that blog, I was surprised that even then my naïve little brain was still conscious of just how much I wanted to share.
Like most teens, I thrived on status updates that were vague enough to be denied if I was cornered, but obvious enough for people in the know (aka my trio of friends and, I wished, my crushes and frenemies) to get the gist.
I’ve owned a series of blogs. There was a Xanga in middle school, then a Live Journal in tenth grade, then a string of WordPress blogs that carried me through my undergrad career, studying abroad, and my first job. Now, I’m here at…
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