a formal introduction + apology

I want to be on top of the world. For 20 minutes, I pondered about ending that sentence with another word. Again.

Again is familiar to me. It’s how I’ve always been. When I don’t get to touch the sun, I eat the world I fall down on. Repeat ad infinitum.

Recently, I asked some friends how they fight the urge to change everything at any given moment?

I’ve been reinventing myself since I knew I could be flawed. A beautiful boy in middle school showed me.

He pointed at my heart and it set on fire. Now I run into fire, wide eyed, set on rebirth.

One of my friends asked me, if you’re constantly purging yourself in search of perfection, are you robbing yourself of what you’re looking for?

If I’m looking for my truest self, I’m ruining it.

Not so long ago I went by a pseudonym, ratbels, which was an anagram for a surname I hated. I wrote a 270 page book of poems on learning how to love myself and never put any of it into practice. Which is crazy because I had long hair, muscles and smoked weed everyday. What was there not to love?

It was called thinkpeace. I printed locally and sold 40 copies by hand. I don’t own a copy.

My first ever lit mag acceptance was under that name. I read it once on their website and never looked back.

I introduced myself to Instagram as Love, Will. Then started a substack called poet lovers because love was my brand. I poured any ounce of it I had into other writers.

That substack turned into a publication called Sip & Stanza where I recorded videos reading amazing poems by amazing poets. I made the mistake of watching myself on camera and deleted everything.

I want to be on top of the world. But I’m realizing that to get there I can’t keep swallowing the ground.

I want to bring the best parts of everything I have been together. I’m putting the em back in my name and letting you know me. Now is a good time.

My name is Willem Alberts. A queer poet from a small town in South Africa that I left at 6 years old. I graduated in Oman and used to dance competitively. There are 3 first place trophies on a showcase that I don’t ever dust off. Before poetry, I wrote gay fanfiction about Derek Hale from Teen Wolf. They were beautiful. Steamy. Gone.

I’m excellent with oil pastels and piping bags. When I was 22, I worked at a wellness center baking cakes. I have a bachelor of commerce degree—for some reason—and more than a hundred people used to pay to watch me masturbate online. It paid for poetry workshops.

For anyone who ever loved something I made, I’m sorry to have crushed it in front of you. I’m unlearning how to be a black hole. I was a spitting snake wrapped in my own throat.

I promise not to destroy everything. Again.