NSFW warning on all of these.
I was 16 years old when I first read through blowfly girl's blog. It has since become sort of a ritual that I revisit her story cyclically every few months or so. Looking back at my past now, I could make out why blowfly girl continues to be a story so dear to me. It was a time when I had started to look into the darker parts of myself. If you compare the me then to the me now, I feel like there isn't much difference in terms of appearances. I was still that all-mighty light in my eyes. Yet I'm sure now during that time I was certainly living in denial. Sometimes you don't realize that you even have secrets until time has passed. These secrets I held were questions that long waited for its answer of hope only for there to be trace amounts of it for the time it was left that way. I never even realized they were asking in the first place. Maybe I did and I ignored them. Blowfly girl is just one of the things that led me to the path I am on now and finally bless the unavoidable sorrow in me with honesty.
I've known about blowfly girl even way before 16 but I never really read it or gave it any insight. It was just an internet meme, a shock story just to shock and probably just porn to some. Until I did and sensed that something was different about it, that it isn't just some troll writing it. That's when I thought to realize that the story was more than just a "story", and it has a blog attached to it, and an entire person. It's stories like these that makes you cling to the idea that it's the internet and people lie. Nobody would ever do this in real life. Questions about morality, sexuality and "what would I do", and just things I didn't truly have a grasp of in the first place were too hard to confront. I clung to the comfort of avoiding ever thinking of it, but I knew inside that this hope was feeble. It's either real or not real. I cannot believe in its fictionality while wholeheartedly wishing her well in case of the supposed low probability that blowfly girl is a real person. I cannot believe it wasn't real because of just how much her blog posts connect with me. At that time I thought, "what if I become like her? What do I do then? What would hope look like for me?" Anything is possible and uncertainty is the biggest cause of fear. It's really something when blowfly girl's other blog posts start to become more relatable every time I pay a visit. Not that I partake in or condone messing with bugs and carcasses but suppose the rest of my website is enough as an answer to that question for you. It's less what I actually do and more what I feel. Back then it was miserable when I thought it ought to be vanquished, this side of me, that there was fundamentally wrong in the logic of my creation. But all it ever has been were questions that hurt needing to be comforted with the reassurance that it's allowed to keep breathing.
Until this day I still believe that blowfly girl is a real person and this was a real story. I don't want to ever prove or disprove this but in my heart I believe it selfishly. People tend to refer to her writings with this immense connotation that it's all performance, and I tend to get irked by that even though I understand how they're completely right, and that I treat her story the same way they do anyway. I think it's evident that blowfly girl herself, too, is aware of the concept that she is, as an anonymous person online baring the intimacies of a soul that one should typically be ashamed of. She writes for the enjoyment of others. Nothing but simple "journal entry" could describe her writing. It's for her, others like her, others like me. A lot of the time we can get by without answers. It sounds really corny when people say "you're not alone" to comfort you and because it doesn't always feel true, it feels sloppy and means too much and nothing at the same time. I feel the better thing to say is "I see you". To me the gross honesty that is blowfly girl is just just a contemporary internet way of saying that. Lovingly, art.
This is proof that she really has the light in her no matter what she may have felt about herself. I know because it's in all of us. I really hope she's living a virtuous life and I hope she forgives and cherishes her younger self the same way I do because of her.
I've always wanted to write to her email. I could say so many things that it's so hard to choose. I hope she's free. I want to be free too.