Okay, so maybe my grandmother was the only one who ever called me Lexi. And maybe she didn’t ever call me that. When my mom told her I was changing my name she said it.
It sounds like a good name to use for my writing. It isn’t my full name so it gives me the illusion of being somewhat more difficult to track and maybe a little bit safer.
Who am I kidding? It’s 2014. I’m writing a blog. Online. I have a Facebook account and am on G+. My days of protecting my privacy ended long before I admitted it.
It’s okay. I’m doing what I love. I’m stepping outside of my comfort zone. Look at me, growing as a person, or something …