An anonymous interview
No name. No face. Just honest answers — because the writing was never meant to be about the writer.
Who are you — and why anonymous?
Someone who has spent a lot of time in their own head and decided to write it down. The anonymous part isn't about mystery — it's a deliberate choice. When there's no face attached to the writing, you stop filtering what you read through what you think of the person. You just read it. And either it resonates, or it doesn't. I'd rather the work carry its own weight.
Where did The Unicorn Journals come from?
From years of journaling that eventually started to look like a pattern. I kept writing about the same things — the same loops, the same realisations, the same reluctance to actually change anything despite understanding it perfectly. At some point it became clear that I wasn't the only one doing this. Everyone I talked to was doing their own version of the same thing. So I turned it into a book. A journal that you read rather than write.
What's the uncomfortable truth you had the hardest time writing?
That a lot of what I'd been calling bad luck was actually a pattern I'd built myself. That the choices I kept making — even the non-choices, the avoiding and the waiting and the staying — were still choices. And that behind most of the things I didn't like about my life, there was a gain I wasn't ready to give up yet. That one took a while to sit with.
What does personal growth actually look like for you, day to day?
Mostly: noticing. Catching myself mid-pattern instead of three days later. Asking why before assuming. Choosing the slightly more honest response instead of the easier one. It's not dramatic — it rarely is. The big shifts are usually just the result of a lot of small, unglamorous moments of paying attention. And then occasionally ugly-crying in a parked car. Both count.
What do you want people to take from the site and the book?
That they're not broken. That the patterns they keep repeating make a certain kind of sense — and that understanding that sense is actually the beginning of something, not just an interesting fact. I want them to feel less alone in their particular version of being human. And maybe a little braver about looking at the parts they'd been hoping to leave in the basement.
One thing you know now that you wish you understood earlier?
That discomfort is almost always information, not punishment. That the thing you've been avoiding is usually the thing that needs the most attention. And that you don't have to be completely ready. You just have to be willing. Those are technically three things. I'm not great at following rules I set for myself — which, honestly, is something I'm working on.
The writing is anonymous. The experience it reflects is not.
XOXO Me