Goodbye Cohost
I've been thinking about this for a little while now, and still feel like I don't know what to say. Of course, my feelings are a bit mixed with the fact that right on the heels of the announcement that Cohost is shutting down, I was very unexpectedly laid off from my job.
I joined Cohost over a year ago, largely due to Aurahack or Kuraine or both posting about it on Tumblr or Twitter or both. I followed just them at first, then some people they regularly reposted from, then I slowly (very slowly) start branching out and following people through tags. I didn't know anybody when I joined. Purely through Cohost I would say I still don't, because nobody ever really followed me back. And that's ok, if only because Cohost helped me learn that it is ok.
Cohost helped me feel comfortable posting into a void where nobody was going to see or hear what I had to say. If I didn't want anyone to see it, I just wouldn't add any tags to a post. Nobody followed me, after all, so nobody would see it. And it didn't matter much either, because I would frequently disappear for too long. I wasn't used to being here, it wasn't part of my routine, so my unmedicated ADHD would forcefully drag me away until I found myself back somehow. Eventually though, things started to change. I followed more artists. I searched through various writing tags. It started to dawn on me that not seeing how popular a specific post was, how many followers a specific user had, made everything feel more human and personal. Made me start to heal, in a sense, from the rest of the internet. Made me realize that people here are sharing their art for the sake of sharing their art and not as some popularity contest.
So I began to be inspired again. And for the first time in years, I began to write again. It was pointless. It was posted into the void with nobody to see or hear it. I didn't care, because it was for me. I would tag it, because why not? And though nobody ever followed me from it, I did get notifications. People shared my poems, people liked them. People I never spoke to, never met, never really crossed paths with again; for whatever reason they liked what I had to say, sometimes. I had created something and it had resonated with a complete stranger. And it felt good.
I had some many things I wanted to do. I never got to them because I thought there would be more time, or I had too many other ideas in progress, or I just got distracted (thanks again, ADHD). As usual, I regret not getting to them sooner. But many of them I have, if only because I was on Cohost. And now, I still get to share those ideas with others, I still get to connect with others, because Cohost helped give me the desire and motivation to do so.
So this is goodbye. My last thoughts, my last post on a site where still nobody will read or hear them because I'm still just shouting into the void. Thank you for helping me be more comfortable with myself. Thank you for helping me heal from something I did not know I needed to heal from, and still cannot name. Thank you for once again making me inspired enough to create. Thank you, Cohost. You will be missed, but you will never be forgotten.