yes, I have failed. 365 days resulted in about 200 pieces of writing. most horrendous and not to be looked at again. yet they represent a year of my life that has been by far the hardest. ironically, I was saying the same for the year before but proved myself to be wrong. not that I am not wrong. I am. a lot. I’ve been wrong about my ability to generate 365 pieces of writing in 365 days. very wrong. been dwelling on this for too long. 3 months to be exact. now I choose to move on. to get back on the horse. perhaps split off the writing. I have roughly 25 more pieces left to post under 365 but I will not do them in any order anymore. in fact I’ve tried to write more lately to get out of the slump. I guess all the good poetry and prose I’ve read on these pages as well as those of Instagram has in a way subconsciously intimidated me. making me feel less than. which is something I detest for I am who I am. writing was always supposed to be just an expression of my current self. current feels. no matter how abstract or dark. an outlet that allowed me to breathe a bit. then I somehow censored self. stopped. there are other factors involved too. my bipolar disorder that is right now not being addressed. it’s my cross to bear, I know. I am also feeling love in the most intense ways. such ways that I have never before. sometimes it feels like an alien inside that incapacitates me. numbs me. yet at the same time this love that I feel, I don’t think I will ever be able to live without it. so I am making this effort again. to not fail. in life. as a human. or whatever I am. I choose not to disappear. I choose to go on. I welcome anyone that joins me even if only for those few moments when you read my scribbles or look at the visual explosion I attach the writing to. I welcome you all. I may not be the most approachable of being. or nicest. or appearing to be grateful. but I do care and I thankful for every moment of your time. thank you.