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Let's try it this way.

So when I started writing a blog seven years ago (on Tumblr then) I set out to do one thing: be honest in order to connect. Over the years I've shared a lot of heartbreak and sadness, and I've gotten beautiful personal messages that have led me to believe that I've accomplished my goal even the tiniest bit. I've shared my adventures and triumphs. I've shared my dumbest moments. It is absolutely true that if only one person can feel understood by something I've written, if one person can be made to feel not alone, then it was all worth it.

Of course I would be ecstatic if my blog were to become a "success." For one thing I would be over the moon if I could make enough of a living doing this that I could be free of that financial burden that is the all-powerful stifler of creativity. It would give me so much happiness to know that I was reaching hundreds, thousands of people who cared enough to come back again and again. After all, the only real motivation for my career is storytelling. At the base of everything it boils down to that. Telling stories to prove that we are all the same deep down.

I follow some bloggers and influencers because they are aspirational--I look at what they have and how they live, where they go, and really daydream for myself. There's a place for that.

What I've come to realize is that I'm not that type of blogger. I'm poor. I don't get free designer clothes. I don't get to travel all the time. I don't even get out and about doing cool activities enough in the city in which I live. I try. Like anyone, I try. And I will certainly post about any of those things as they come up.

I live with depression that I manage with a combination of therapy and medication. I tend to struggle with things more than I should--so much so that my two best friends think I'm extremely unlucky. I could agree with that. But when I sit here typing to you all I don't feel that. I feel lucky to have gone through what I have and to continue to fight.

I just watched my younger brother die and come back, and if he isn't the living embodiment of perseverance I don't know what is. And if I can't recognize how precious life is RIGHT NOW then there's no hope for me. My family is my inspiration to push through all the shit and keep going. I would do anything to take care of them, and I write this for them too.

I want to make this a place where anything can be heard and told. I want to show that being "normal" rather than aspirational is pretty fucking cool too. Sometimes I'm a mess, and sometimes I'm a total boss. I swear a lot (have a potty mouth). I know I'm not kid-friendly, but I love kids. (I'm actually great with them in real life, I swear. See what I did there?)

I still love fashion and interior design and traveling and adventuring, and I sure do my best to find all of it in my own way. I'll always be honest with you, and know that you can be the same with me.

xxxo Annitsa

Here's me writing this in bed at 12:29am--zit cream, wrist brace, happy face.

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