Heyy!

I’m Lavender Raye.

I’ve been thinking about what my first post should be about. What I should say. How I should introduce myself. How I should set the tone for what this space is going to be.

And… I got nothing. Lol.

So, I’m just going to free write. Let my mind flow. Let my words spill. Because that’s what this space is for.

A place where I can be, fully.

A place where I can exist—unfiltered, unrestricted, uncensored.

A place where the mind speaks.

Honestly, I hate talking.

Not in an anti-social way. Not in a shy way. Not in a nothing to say way.

I just… don’t enjoy it okay.

Unless you’re one of my best friends, or someone I feel completely comfortable around, I’m probably the quietest person you’ll ever meet.

The type to sit back and observe. The type to listen and absorb. The type to let words roll around in my head a thousand times before I decide whether or not they’re worth saying.

But don’t mistake my silence for emptiness.

Because my mind is never quiet.

My thoughts are endless.

They loop, they expand, they collide, they create. They jump from one idea to another like a never-ending constellation of things that don’t seem connected at first, but somehow, they are.

I could be thinking about the significance of a single moment one second, and Doja Cat’s So High is playing in the background on a loop in my head the next.

I could be analyzing the human brain and how I can optimize it for my benefit while simultaneously wondering if I should start drinking matcha—because I heard it’s a healthier alternative to coffee, and baby, I really need the caffeine sometimes, smh.

I could be contemplating the nature of existence, what it means to be a human being on planet Earth, and also thinking about why the hell there are 50 million brands of water out there—and which ones are actually good for me to drink.

My mind is its own universe.

And honestly? If I don’t get these thoughts out somewhere, I might just go insane—and that would be an inconvenience.

So I created this blog.

Not just a blog. A portal.

Because the mind is more than just a place where thoughts happen.

The mind is a portal for creation.

A bridge between the seen and unseen.

Between the known and the unknown.

Between what is and what could be.

And here, in this space, I let my mind speak.

Not because I don’t have people to talk to. I do.

But sometimes, I feel like an outlier—like the things I want to talk about aren’t the kind of things most people around me think about. So when a conversation actually clicks, when there’s real depth and exchange, it feels rare.

Almost like alchemy.

You ever experienced that? I hope so. If you haven’t, my friend, you’re missing out. Or maybe… you just haven’t realized it yet.

I’m talking about the kind of conversations where you say something, and the other person doesn’t just hear you—they get it. And they bounce back with a thought that expands yours, and you bounce back with something that expands theirs, and suddenly, you’re both caught in this electric flow of thought, where the conversation isn’t just words anymore—

It’s energy.

Synergy.

It doesn’t even matter if you’re talking about the meaning of life or the latest season of Love Is Blind.

When the connection is real, it’s magic.

I live for those conversations.

But they’re rare.

Because a lot of the time, the things I think about, the way my mind moves, the things I want to dive into—they feel foreign to the people around me.

But that’s just half of the truth.

The other half is… I hold myself back. Because I don’t want to be vulnerable.

Because how do you really let someone in?

Not just into your life. Not just into your routines. Not even into your body.

But into you.

Your mind. Your soul. Your inner world.

How do you allow someone outside of yourself to step inside and see things the way you see them?

How do you let someone read the unspoken words in your head?

How do you let someone feel you—truly, deeply—without fear of being misinterpreted, misunderstood, misjudged… and even loved?

Whether you’ve known them all your life or just a few weeks—how do you do it?

I know it can be done. But how?

The idea of it sounds beautiful.

Like a fairytale.

Like an intimacy so raw and unfiltered that it transcends words.

But for me? It would feel like exposure.

Not shameful exposure—not like Adam and Eve, realizing their nakedness for the first time and scrambling to cover themselves. No.

More like an invasion of privacy.

I don’t mind being naked. I have a great body, if I may say so myself—lol.

But don’t look at me, though. Not until I have my clothes on. Because as much as I don’t mind being seen, I still get to choose how and when. And that’s exactly why I don’t even know if I’ll tell my friends about this blog.

Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. But that’s not why I created this space.

I didn’t create it to be looked at.

This isn’t about vanity. This isn’t about my social presence, my image, or how I appear to the world.

And it sure as hell isn’t about social media clout.

This isn’t about numbers, algorithms, engagement metrics, or curating some polished, picture-perfect version of myself.

External image, external validation—none of that matters here.

What matters here is what’s inside.

The words. The thoughts. The stories. The spirit—sharing itself, digitally.

And if you’re reading this right now, chances are, you’re thousands of miles away.

We may never cross paths.

Or maybe we will. And neither of us will know.

But right now, in this moment, we are connected.

Through these words.

Through this space.

Through the unseen.

It’s strange, isn’t it?

That connection is becoming more digital than human.

That we can share thoughts with people across the world but struggle to say what’s on our minds to the people right in front of us.

That we can be more open in text than in conversation.

That we crave to be understood, but fear being seen.

That we want to connect, but only in ways that feel safe.

But listen—we’ll have our human experiences with the people in our real world.

We’ll laugh.

We’ll cry.

We’ll touch.

We’ll love.

We’ll live.

And yet, at the same time, we can exist in a space where our minds can meet, even if our bodies never do.

I pray that one day, I have the courage to expose myself—not as an invasion, but as an invitation.

But I’m not ready for that yet.

What I am ready for is this:

To speak.

To create.

To connect.

With the people who resonate with me.

Across time.

Across space.

Across all the ways we don’t need to see each other to know.

Even if we never meet.

Even if we don’t want to be heard.

Even if we don’t want to be seen.

Even if we don’t want to be judged.

We are here.