When you’re a millenial, these introduction things get old. Like, how many ways can you really inaccurately capture the complicated (read: fucked up) mess that you are? Wanna play it safe and boring this time? Quirky and cute? Random and lol?
I’ve agonized over too many bios and self-summaries and about me’s over the years. (Narcissism and neurosis galore!) It is really tiring having to define myself. Because it is tiring having to limit myself. But writing more and more just makes me sound like even more of a self-centered jackass, so…
Whatever. I’ve come out of the narcissist closet. I write about me because I know me, not because I love me. Well, as much as one can really know oneself–to say that I write about me because I’m familiar with me, would be more accurate. I wonder if people get that. I wonder if people think they know me because I am so TMI and FYI all the time. I wonder if people think they know me better than I know myself. I wonder if those people are right and what them being right means for me. The truth is, I am explicit and prolific and brutal and unflinching in my self-display on social media because a part of me is hoping that someone will gently take my hand and tell me, “Hey. You are x and y and z, and that’s okay. So stop worrying about it.” Then I can just stop fixating on what and how I am in relation to the rest of the world except not really because that will never happen.
OK OK no more pseudo-philosophical bullshit
Hi, my name is Learkana. No, Learkana. No, Learkana. No, leer-kaw-nah. L-e-a-r-k-a-n-a. Thanks, it’s Cambodian. Well it’s not really pronounced that way though. It’s actually leh!-keh-nah. Leh!-keh-nah. No, leh!-keh-nah. …just say Leer-kaw-nah.
tl;dr I haz blog cuz I iz narcissist