"the hollow girl"?


To anyone who has found their way here,
I extend an awkward welcome.
(This is the part where I offer something to drink, yes?
Would you like some tea? It's no trouble,
I always have a cup just about now.)

There's nothing special about this space;
it's simply where I've decided to write
about the very ordinary things in my life,
part journal, part letter to a hypothetical friend.

But why "the hollow girl"?

Although I've not been a girl for a good while now,
in my head I'll forever be a socially anxious 15-year-old.
I struggled for years to appear "more mature,"
to dress a certain way, even to change my voice.
All of this only served to make me absolutely miserable
and feel even more "other."
I've since accepted the fact that
I'm a 5' androgynous jeans-and-t-shirt-wearing,
walking-stick-using person
with shaved grey hair and bitten nails
who confuses the heck out of people.
(
On my most recent birthday,
I decided that thenceforward my motto would be
"Embrace your weird."
It's been extremely liberating.
I highly recommend it!)

As for the "hollow" part, it applies on two levels.

It's abundantly clear that I'm neurodivergent,
with possibly a mix of autism and OCD?
(In my opinion, labels, like circles, are overrated.
Remind me to show you a picture of my pancakes.)
(And my flour tortillas.)
In attempting to describe my interior emotional self,
I always come back to an impression of emptiness,
of remoteness, of distance.
That's the best way I can explain it.

Also, a few years ago I was diagnosed
with advanced, premature osteoporosis,
before I could even be considered a "statistic."
(I've since become a statistic, huzzah!)

I intend to write here principally in English,
although there may be an occasional smattering of French (my native tongue).
It'll be mostly about the books I read
and no doubt the fantastic podcast episodes I listen to,
but I don't intend to limit myself in any way to these specific topics.

(Oh, how do I end this? Um, goodbye? Yes, that sounds right.)

Goodbye!


D