First post

Dear Shakespeare,

I think it's high time we got us a piece of some internet.

I'm sick and tired of writing letters to you on the backs of my tattered chemistry or math homework, it must be such a challenge for your ghostly brain to decipher my incoherent scrawl which masquerades as handwriting. So ol' Shakespeare we're starting a blog. Well actually I'm starting my blog of letters to you, so all my generic teenage angst  and crappy attempts at poetry and style will be well documented. I tried a blog once, I tried really hard, but it soon became far staler than the lonely piece of  toast currently stewing in the bottom of my backpack (yeah I know it's gross, I call it Narnia gone wrong). I guess my first blog failed because I felt the overwhelming desire to emulate a certain style, a certain aesthetic, but like a lot of things unnatural I simply couldn't keep it up. It was a petty and pretentious attempt at a blog where I cared far too much if people read it and what  thoughts went through their heads as they saw my writing. I was just a desperate little fourteen year old wanting a horde of cool internet friends who wore blue lipstick, made zines and lazed around eating cupcakes for breakfast whilst engaging in intense Freaks and Geeks marathons.

 Actually I still like blue lipstick, and zines, and cupcakes, and freaks and geeks,  but this time I'm just writing to you, and instead of this blog being a place where I feel the need to conform to a certain vibe I want it to be a place  like an online diary or journal. Where everything I post is something that directly relates to the constant transformation that is me (man, I sound like a fricking butterfly). I have no idea why I feel that you are interested in the life of an average teenage wallflower like me, but after that time I broke down in English class whilst reciting Macbeth I felt like asking you questions, and writing to you in the hopes that you would help me understand your work. GOSH SHAKESPEARE when are ya gonna answer all mah questions???

PS. Can ghosts float inside the internet Shakespeare? Is the internet actually a magical world where flying cats are the kings and queens and my horrid school uniform is exchanged for some lovely Meadham Kirchoff attire? I hope so

Truly Mary,