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I still can't believe it.

Today (or rather, this week) marks the eighth anniversary of this blog. I KNOW. Eight years. As a good friend of mine said earlier, "Who keeps a blog for eight years? And in Blogspot, no less?"

That means this blog has been witness to three years of high school, four years of college, and almost a year of law school. That's an entire teenage-hood and a few years of adulthood. That's a transition from braces to retainers to bakal-free, from Chuck Taylors to ballet flats to platform wedges, from black-and-white school girl plaid to jean shorts to peplum skirts. When I first started this thing, there was still such a thing as Haloscan! And people still said "ex links?" on each other's Tagboards. God, I feel old. 

It's insane how much I've changed in that span of time, but what's even more unbelievable is how constant and present this blog has been through all that. To be honest, there are many things I've written that I sometimes regret putting out here for everyone to see, if only because they were too personal or unnecessary. There are times I wish I didn't have to run to this place and instead chose another outlet, a journal where no one else can go through and use against me, like an actual diary (or a password-protected Wordpress).

But then, I'm reminded of why I started putting this much effort into this: because I don't always remember. I am a very forgetful person: the kind that forgets her keys all the time, the kind that always has to ask someone else to ring her phone, the kind that never recalls facts from the cases just by memory, the kind that forgets what time she's supposed to meet up with people. (Which is why Dory is my spirit animal.) And the thing is, I know this. I'm aware of how much I forget. It's funny, but actually kind of sad, to realize that not everything I felt genuinely excited, happy, or remotely interested about is going to stay in my head forever.

So, here. It's been eight years' worth of embarrassing fangirling, crushes, hell weeks, heartbreaks, and random musings. Perhaps they're not all significant and they're not all important enough to go back to - but hell, if it brings me somewhere in the past, somewhere I no longer remember - then damn it, it's fucking worth it.

Because it's always nice to remember. Even for a little bit, even for a while.

Happy 8th birthday, Bombastarr!