Maybe We’re All a Little Tired of Performing

There’s something objectively hilarious about living in a world that constantly tells us to be ourselves while simultaneously handing us a very detailed list of which versions of ourselves are acceptable.

Be confident.
But not conceited.

Be sexy.
But not slutty.

Be independent.
But don’t be intimidating.

Be ambitious.
But stay humble.

Have standards.
But don’t be difficult.

Be vulnerable.
But not too emotional.

Love yourself.
But apparently not so loudly that somebody mistakes it for an ego.

Stand out.

But still fit in.

Got it. Super reasonable. No notes. 😭

Sometimes it feels like we’re all trying to hit this imaginary sweet spot where we’re enough of everything, but never too much of anything.

And I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit trying to find it.

Which parts of me will people love? Which ones should I soften? Which ones need explaining? Which ones should I tuck away somewhere because they might make somebody uncomfortable?

But I’m starting to realize something.

I actually like those parts of me.

I Was Never Going to Be Just One Thing

I’m emotional and logical.

Soft and stubborn.

Sensual and incredibly unserious.

I can spend hours obsessing over something I’m working on because I need to understand why it works, not just whether it works.

Then five minutes later I’m walking around looking for my phone while it is literally in my hand.

Duality, babe. 😂

I want independence, but I also crave connection.

I can be proud of myself and still have days when I question everything.

I can love being feminine and sensual and still expect my thoughts to be taken seriously.

And that one matters to me.

Because somewhere along the way, we were taught to put people into these tiny little boxes.

Sexy or intelligent.

Soft or strong.

Independent or loving.

Confident or humble.

Why?

Intelligence and sexuality were never opposites.

Neither were softness and strength.

We inherited a lot of weird little rules about who we’re supposed to be. And after hearing them long enough, sometimes we start enforcing them on ourselves without even realizing it.

I don’t want to do that anymore.

Maybe you don’t either.

Does Anyone Else Feel Like Everything Got Really… Loud?

I love the internet.

Obviously. Hi. 😂

It lets us create things, find people we never would’ve met otherwise, discover entire worlds from our beds and somehow become emotionally invested in a stranger reorganizing her refrigerator at 1 a.m.

But I also think we’re getting tired.

We can see hundreds of people before we even get out of bed.

Their vacations.

Bodies.

Relationships.

Careers.

Houses.

Engagements.

Breakups.

Breakfast.

Meanwhile I’m lying there with one eye open looking like a Victorian child recovering from influenza.

And somehow my brain is supposed to compare my actual Tuesday morning to somebody else’s edited highlight reel?

That’s kind of insane when you think about it.

We know more about each other than ever.

But do we actually know each other better?

Everything is faster now.

Scroll. Like. Next.

More content.

More opinions.

More comparison.

More pressure to make ourselves instantly understandable before somebody’s thumb decides it’s time to move on.

And I don’t think humans are meant to experience each other that quickly.

People are complicated.

Beautifully, frustratingly complicated.

Behind every username and tiny profile picture is a whole person carrying around a life you probably know almost nothing about.

Someone is falling in love.

Someone is grieving something they haven’t told anyone about.

Someone is starting over.

Someone is lonely in a room full of people.

Someone is finally beginning to like who they see in the mirror.

And somebody has opened the refrigerator four times hoping new food magically spawned in there.

I see you.

I am you. 😂

I Want This Little Corner to Feel Different

I don’t want another place on the internet where I pretend I have everything figured out.

Because… absolutely not.

I want somewhere we can be curious together.

I want to talk about confidence and relationships. Creativity. Sexuality. Loneliness. Ambition. Travel. Self-worth. Things I’m learning. Things I’m questioning. Things that make me laugh way harder than they probably should.

And inevitably something completely unrelated because my brain took an unexpected field trip halfway through.

Some days I might have something profound to say.

Other days I may urgently need everyone to understand why a snack I discovered has fundamentally altered the trajectory of my life.

Both feel important.

But underneath all of it, I want there to be something that can get lost when everything becomes views, likes, followers and numbers.

Connection.

Real connection.

Not the kind where everyone agrees with each other all the time. Honestly, that sounds exhausting anyway.

I mean the kind where you can show up as yourself without immediately wondering how you’re being perceived.

Where curiosity is more interesting than judgment.

Where femininity can be powerful.

Where sexuality doesn’t cancel intelligence.

Where sensitivity isn’t weakness.

Where changing your mind can mean you learned something.

And where nobody has to have their entire life figured out before they’re allowed to enjoy it.

Maybe We’re Supposed to Keep Becoming

I think we put so much pressure on ourselves to finally arrive.

Find yourself.

Know your purpose.

Build your career.

Fix your flaws.

Heal everything.

Become confident.

Find the relationship.

Get the body.

Figure out your entire existence and preferably announce it in an aesthetically pleasing carousel by Thursday.

Girl, I just got here. 😭

Maybe we never completely “find ourselves.”

Maybe that isn’t the assignment.

Maybe we just keep meeting different versions of ourselves as life gives us different reasons to grow.

I’m not the same woman I was two years ago.

I hope I’m not the same woman two years from now.

That used to feel a little scary.

Now?

I think it’s kind of beautiful.

I don’t want this space to document some perfectly finished version of Alexus Rae.

I want it to document the becoming.

The beautiful parts.

The uncomfortable parts.

The sexy parts.

The ridiculous parts.

The wait… am I actually doing this? parts.

The moments when everything clicks and the moments when I have absolutely no fucking clue what I’m doing.

Because that’s real life.

So if you’re figuring yours out too, you’re welcome here.

You don’t have to impress me.

You don’t have to agree with everything I say.

You don’t even have to know exactly who you are yet.

Come as you are.

We’ll figure some shit out together.

And probably get distracted along the way.

xoxo,
Lexi ♡