Eight F---ing Years

Almost a third of my life, I've been here. You'd think they'd let you off for good behavior at some point. This year, I've read a bunch of interesting Hiveversary posts from people turning "my age" or even older, some I've known for years, some I only discovered recently. And I think the thing that keeps resonating across these posts is the surprise at commitment.

Like, I think we expect to have this kind of length commitment to people in our lives - certainly, being in a relationship of 8-9 years, while no small thing, is not out of the ordinary, either. Having a friendship last this long, or a relationship with a family member (of course) is also common, as is having the same job for almost a decade.

And yet, everyone here seems so surprised at the fact that this love affair with Hive (at the risk of being corny, the way we all get a bit on Hiveversaries) has lasted all this while. Perhaps we're surprised we kept at it. Or that we still want to keep at it, are perhaps more involved than we were three years ago, that somehow this thing in our life has remained a constant, despite so much change, chaos, and unpredictability.

What's changed?

Well, I was just thinking yesterday that this is the place I feel most free in my writing, and has been for a long while now. I find it easier and more inviting to experiment and be playful here than I do, perhaps, if I sit down to write-write a story on my own. It's terribly stimulating, to me, and that wouldn't have been true 8 years ago, for sure.

If I look back at my first posts on the blockchain, they were much more clean, more general and like a magazine-type article. Now, I struggle to remember the last time I wrote something that's not deeply personal or some kind of creative exercise.

To be fair, I was still quite young, and suppose I was quite shy about my lived experience. Perhaps it seemed insufficient, like I wouldn't have much to write about, somehow.

What's same?

But I remember, still, the thrill of one of the very first things I wrote. I think it was about the great relationship I have with @ladyrebecca and how immensely fortunate I am in that regard. And I was writing it while on the road, helping with a theatre festival in another city in Romania. Early autumn. Remember feeling like everything was possible, including being taken seriously for something you feel, craft, make up.

I'd say that's only intensified down the years. This elation of doing something that matters, of putting yourself out there, and finding someone who hears you (or in this case, reads you).

I had this picture as a closing banner for years.

What's gone?

So incredibly much. I think, like many of us, about the Hive people I knew five years ago, or when I just came on, and how long they've been absent from the blockchain (and perhaps, some, from this Earth as well).

I remember coming back after a few months' absence to learn @dreemit had passed. I was so shocked, and so incredibly saddened. Interacting with her during the dark pandemic times was such a delight.

Then, there's the people who simply...stopped. I pestered @guyfawkes4-20 a long time to not give up writing here, but I guess life gets in the way, and we abandon this place. I don't know why.

Would you leave?

I inevitably come back to asking 'why should I?'. Obviously, things rearrange themselves quite drastically in life, but I do consider frequently the people who left this place behind, and all the valid issues and frustrations they had with Hive. Personally, though, I couldn't see it. I've taken breaks here and there, but would like to think I'd find my way back here eventually.

What's stayed?

So much, impossible to mention. I've loved so many different interactions here, some with people I've known for years, some only discovered, as I've said. But much as I love the new people I'm discovering, there's something unparalleled in maintaining a relationship with somebody from across the globe, and perhaps from across a lifetime, for eight years simply via an online platform.

I suppose allowing people to impact you in a major way is always a risk. Even online. Even from across the world. And I'm grateful to Hive for that, for all the good things and the happy moments it's brought me.

And for giving me faith and courage in my own writing, without which my life would've been radically different.