I started Six Billion Proud my second year of college (something like 11 or 12 years ago, i feel like) in an effort to consolidate some of the more personal writing that I had been doing on Xanga, MySpace, and even Facebook. Six Billion Proud was a very public private journal for me during a time of need, and a couple years ago I decided I had need for it again.
Previously writing here had been theraputic for me. I fell off with it and eventually blogged some on tumblr. I hoped I could recreate it, but I've had trouble reproducing the theraputic benefits writing here originally afforded me. I've tried writing a number of times, and nothing has really worked.
I've given it a lot of thought and it's time to lay this iteration of the site to rest. I resurrected the site for the wrong reasons. In the past, when I've written personal pieces that I feel like really worked, I was writing for me — massaging those emotional knots, processing what came, and moving on. I think that it also served as a mini project, one with a definitive beginning and ending. That wasn't even close to what I did this time around.
I wrote wanting an answer, and I wanted an answer so bad. I couldn't write for myself. I'm still not sure I can, because even this is so hard to express. How do you write past the ending?
All this said, it is long past time. Years ago we drove through the desert and talked about sharks, about stopping, and I can tell you it's true. Stop swimming and you will die. That death is worse than nothingness. It is a weight made heavier and heavier until you are nothing but the weight. You are defined by the sinking and by nothing else. Typing this out I'd guess you probably know exactly what this feels like. the rot. And now I'm doing it again.
I may always feel the sharp sense of loss that led me to resurrecting Six Billion Proud, but I need to stop letting it define me. i've come a long way and letting this go is the next part.
As always, I've lost the consistent narrative thread that I thought I'd started out with, so I'll end on this note: this site has served its purpose, and in a world more uncertain than ever I need to be willing to let go of the the things that stop me from swimming.