If anything, this is one of those, "This is the hardest post I'll ever have to write," posts.
And not because I have some terrible news I'd like to utilize in my favor.
And by that I mean I didn't come here to set the victim card trap in order collect sympathy, for profit.
And sure, that kind of thing really pisses me off when I see others do it, but this post isn't about that; nor am I angry about anything, for now.
It's hard because I haven't written anything in months.
Some might throw that classic, "It's like riding a bike," idiom around but to them I say, "Have you ever actually ridden a goddamn bike before?"
I think some people who say that shit don't know the first thing about riding bikes. Why do I not see the scars? There's no mention of the truck about to come around the corner pretending to be a paint brush so it can smear you all over the pavement. Why?
If you've truly ridden a bike before...
You should have medical bills and lawyer fees coming out the ying-yang and going in all directions! So show me those; then we'll talk.
If writing's like riding a bike and riding a bike is a tough skill to learn but easy forever after, why have I completely ruined this post writing nonsense after spending years writing well and sometimes making sense?
Am I supposed to believe I'm some kind of a Statistical Anomaly?
Anyway. It's been another long enough while since we saw each other last. Looking back into my history books here, it appears as if I took early Christmas vacation then extended it to last the rest of the winter because, why not?
It's always a mystery with me, hey? And when people leave to go do their own thing for awhile without saying anything, the folks left behind often think something negative must have been the main contributing factor. Maybe something happened. Maybe dude was stressed. Maybe dude hates life and gives up too easy. Maybe dude doesn't like us anymore. Maybe dude hit the bottle again and spent winter in prison because to be honest, he does come across as a bit of nutcase at times so I can see that happening to someone like him. Maybe someone died. Maybe he's dead. Maybe he killed someone. Maybe etcetera.
You're fine.
I trust myself enough to know I'll always be fine. Nothing needs to be perfect and problems are solvable. When I'm tired, I rest. When I need space, I take some. When I don't feel like doing something, I don't do it.
Years ago when I started this, I had no idea where it would take me. Safe to say I went pretty far, made quite a few good impressions, and left a lasting impact. So what's next?
I enjoy a good challenge and the biggest challenge I face these days — at least in this world — is regaining and retaining interest.
In order to appease the tribal types among us I will make it clear I've not lost interest in seeing this massive project known as Hive become the success it should be. That hasn't changed.
Writing, art, being an attention whore, entertaining the masses with goals of breaking free from the shackles of being a virtual nobody forever. Fizzle. Fizzle. Fizzle.
Something a lot of contributors to this platform have in common is the fact they feel the pace of progress is too slow. I can relate. I've watched everything unfold. Been around since damn near the beginning. I saw it all. Almost five years, and that's a long time.
The ball was rolling the entire time but I can't really say it was moving forward; until about around the time everyone threw up their middle fingers and rebranded the place into, this.
And this ain't so bad now. I can be creative but nowhere in my imagination can I come up with excuses that deflect the reasons why I don't feel like producing content much anymore onto the platform, progress, or people involved. You folks are doing great so keep up the good work.
It's me.
Can't even pretend to know when I'll be able to bounce back. I miss making people laugh, the most. Inside my mind is a lot of chatter. Sometimes counterproductive internal dialogue interferes, then takes over. Haunting thoughts have always been a part of who I am though. Fighting those demons kept me in shape. The only reason I'm alive is because I keep winning.
Troubled. People sense that in others. They want to help; they want to lend an ear. So much can be said on the inside but when it comes time to bring it outside, there are no words. It's not something that can be put into words. Consciousness extends beyond the simplicity of sharing ideas. Putting it out there would be like describing red to the blind.
Spent a lot of time writing, creating, entertaining. Enjoyed it; loved it. Some of the best years of my life. Turned a dream into a reality. Proved a lot of naysayers wrong (which is always fun). All that and probably only reached about ten percent of my true potential. That's fucking amazing when you think about it. I even got to feel what it's like to be wealthy, for a time. It was all so nice and I will do it twice but I'm not scheduled to start the race again for awhile.
My experience here has given me a lot of good memories. When you have a mind that isn't always your friend, a good memory goes a long way, so I HODL.
I guess I don't really have much more to say right now other than this lazy ending. I'll be around browsing content, for the foreseeable future anyway. So I guess I'll see you all out and about, if you're still around.
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