I don’t remember when I first encountered the internet.
Perhaps it was when I had just learned to read, sitting at the head of my parents’ bed, trying to use a sliding phone to edit all kinds of MMS messages and ringtones, then send them to relatives and friends far away. I didn’t understand what the internet was. I only felt that, through a screen, a person could send something to a distant place.
In middle school, I began to want to create something of my own: a website, an app, or anything small that others could open, see, and use. Back then, I actually understood almost nothing. I was just experimenting out of curiosity. Technically, I did not learn much, but the feeling of “making something” has stayed with me to this day.
Later, this desire to “make something” slowly turned into the idea of building a personal blog.
I can no longer remember when it began. Perhaps it was because I wanted to record something, to sketch out the world inside my heart. Or perhaps I simply thought it was cool to have a website of my own. In any case, I made my first serious attempt to build a blog.
That time, it did not take much effort. The entire website relied almost completely on WordPress, and I only made a few simple personal modifications. But to me at the time, that was already novel enough: it turned out that I, too, could have a page of my own, where I could write my words and place the things I liked.
But that freshness and enthusiasm did not last long. After a few days, I left it all behind. Looking back now, it seems I was building a website for the sake of building a website. The act of building itself gave me a feeling that “I am creating something,” and also offered me a safe form of escape. The content that truly needed to be created had never really begun.
Later, in 2022, OpenAI released ChatGPT. When I heard the news, I was very excited. Those fantasies and stories about AI that had existed in my mind suddenly felt so close. Of course, it did not immediately become what I had imagined, but it quietly changed my relationship with technology. Many things that I could only dream about in the past suddenly became things I could try.
And so, I began building a blog once again.
This time, I bought my own server and domain name, and seriously compared several blogging frameworks. In the end, I still chose WordPress, and with the help of Gemini and Cursor, modified a theme that I liked. That blog was called Maywe, meaning “may we.” What I wanted to talk about was love, us, and life.
That website looked more complete than before, but the result was not very different. It was more polished than my first blog, and closer to what I had imagined. But after the novelty faded, I stopped again. I realized that tinkering with technology itself had become a form of entertainment, while the things I truly wanted to write were once again left behind.
AI kept moving forward, and I did not want to forget my original intention yet again. So I started building a new blog.
This time, more of the concrete work was handed over to an AI Agent on my server. I no longer spent all my energy on themes, configuration, and details as I had before. Its overall layout is based on AstroPaper. I like this simple and pure design, and I feel that it is closer to the blog I first imagined. I am grateful for the generosity of its author, and I also want to express the same gratitude to the author of the theme mentioned earlier.
I have built blogs too many times. Every time, I began with excitement, and every time, I was soon carried away by new tools, new ideas, and new hesitations. For me, the hardest part has never been putting a website together. It has been sitting down and continuing to write honestly.
This time, whether the writing is good or not, I want to first write what I truly want to say.
Let me return to the original intention behind building a website: to return to myself, and to return to this little Red Book of mine.
In a place where I can be seen, I want to sincerely record what I see, what I think, what I dream of, and those things that still cannot yet be clearly spoken.