We’ve been trained to expect clarity.
To believe every big feeling must end with a moral—
A neat conclusion, a TED Talk takeaway, a three-step solution.
But here’s the truth, I keep chewing like nasty gristle:
Some things don’t resolve.
Some stories stay jagged.
And some blogs, this one especially, aren’t built to clean up after your pain.
They’re built to leave it on the floor, still breathing.
I started Memoirs of Madness because I didn’t know what else to do with the words.
Over a decade ago, someone said every writer needed a blog if they were serious. I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t know if I was serious. I just knew I had things in me that wouldn’t stay quiet.
I wrote because I needed to. Still do.
Not to change the world. Not to craft a brand.
But because silence costs too damn much.
So when you ask me, “What change do you want your blog to make?”
I honestly don’t know.
And that’s not me being evasive. That’s me refusing to lie to you.
I could dress it up. Tell you it’s about healing. About expression. About building a community for the unseen. All of which might be true, sometimes. But defining that change in a singular, bite-sized way would flatten what this space actually is.
This blog isn’t one thing.
It’s a mirror that distorts and reveals depending on how the light hits.
It’s rage on Monday, softness on Tuesday, confession by Thursday, and grief that overstays its welcome every damn Sunday.
If Memoirs of Madness changes anything, I hope it changes the way you think about being unfinished.
I hope it disrupts that polished self you wear in front of strangers.
I hope it reminds you that not knowing is still worthy of a voice.
Those messy, unresolved, and unsellable truths still deserve the page.
I hope this blog pisses you off sometimes.
Not because I’m aiming to provoke, but because something buried in you recognized itself and flinched.
Because it sure as hell pisses me off—
dragging up things I thought I buried,
making me admit shit I’d rather leave unsaid.
That’s how I know it’s honest.
So no, I didn’t build this place to change the world.
I built it to survive mine.
And if, by some luck or accident, it helps you survive yours—
then maybe that’s the kind of change that matters most.
Memoirs of Madness 