Hello everyone.

It's been a while, huh?

So, many of you are probably all wondering the same thing:
Am I dead?

Well, yes and no.

For those of you which followed me for my characters or my art, I am still very much alive! I have an instagram account by the same name as my Wattpad that I run! I'm very active on there and enjoy posting art almost every day- or whenver I can.

Now, for those of you which came here for my stories.
I'd like to start off by saying: "I'm sorry".

It happened a year or so ago, and still affects me to this day.
I have no explanation or reason as to why this happened but basically...
One day, during the summer, I sat down to write something new (this was when I was still pretty active). My fingers froze. And I...
I couldn't think.

It's really hard to explain (as I mentioned, this has greatly effected me, or at least in my opinion). Basically, when I was still active in writing, I was able to imagine the words in my brain. I was able to directly pull sentences from my brain and put them in chapters to create stories. It allowed me to comfortably write and I'm very happy I could!

But.

That day, I just suddenly stopped? It wasn't anything close to writer's block, since I had so many ideas and stories I wanted to tell. But I just suddenly couldn't find the words to express myself. I felt hollow. Like someone broke my hands and sew my mouth shut. It was horrible.

The days that followed that were excruciating for me. It got to the point where I even stopped drawing for a long period of time (roughly a few months. It might not seem all that long, but as a person which constantly brings a journal everywhere they go, it's impactful). I had so many thoughts, so many things I wanted to share and get down... but I couldn't.

And the more I thought of it, the more I felt as if these were excuses for me to just quit. I was so scared, because my idology up until then was that writing/art was a strong passion of mine, the only way to express my emotions, ideas, and creations to anyone willing to listen. I was voiceless.

And, for a long time, I thought I couldn't do much about it.
The time I would use to pour my ideas and words into chapters, or to draw up a scene of my favorite characters were wasted away with me either watching random Youtube videos or simply staring at my ceiling as time passed.

Doing nothing was hell for me.
But it was all I thought I could do.

So I did that.

And my body eventually grew more tired. Less energetic. I found that even if I attempted to start something, my body would eventually peter off until I had to stop what I was doing to lay down and shut my eyes for a while (not sleep. Just laying still). In fact, sleeping in itself became a challenge. I close my eyes, only to open them to the next morning.

I've heard that REM sleep (the stage where people dream) was essential for a healthy mind and body, and refreshes someone after having a certain amount of it. It's been months.

And now we're back to the present.

Things have been a bit uplifting for me. I managed to "recently" post a written chapter about something. So, I thought, maybe I could get back into writing again.

But when I sat down to write for the first time in what felt like centuries, I was stuck- the same as before. However, this time, I understood why.

I developed a self-conscious mindset.

It may sound ridiculous, and it really is, but let's just say that my personal life beat the everloving shit out of me.
During those years, my confidence in myself has been bruised and beaten out to the point where I recently almost cried when I failed to do something a person asked of me. And I was left feeling so confused, so utterly stuped, when they didn't scream or threaten or raise a hand. They simply said it was fine and said to not worry about it.

God, I don't know.

Throughout the many years I had this account, I tried so hard, SO DAMN HARD not to spill. I wanted this place to be something for people to be happy about, to enjoy themselves. I didn't want to push off all of these feelings and ruin everything because I felt that if I did, no one would care.

But I'm at the point where it is probably best to let it out now instead of suffering. I don't care if no one cares. I just need it gone.

And at this point (even if you stuck around this long), you might be wondering: What does this have to do with you writing again?

It's because I think I finally understand WHY I couldn't write.
Yes, I developed self-loathing and utter disgust with every single little action I do, to the point where it is probably unhealthy, but I wouldn't know.

But by shackling off a rather large part of myself, I think I just stifled everything about me. You see, the main point of me writing is to be me. Share my ideas, interact with all of you, and create amazing stories. But by putting away an essential part of myself, it was only a matter of time before I just...

Stopped.

I want to write.
I really do.
And I know I have been talking for a long time, and that I seem probably really crazy.

I just want to go back to doing what I loved to do so much.
So, I've been trying (at my own pace) to ease back into writing. It's hard, but I'm getting through it.

So, maybe soon, you'll see me back here.
There is no guarantees, of course, since now I have a pressing life outside of this account (which I wish I didn't have but what can you do), but I'm trying my best to make time to stay active.

But just a few words for all of you (extra words I mean haha).
Don't expect the same person you guys followed or liked years ago. They've changed.
Yes, I still like writing angst and fluff, and yes, I love writing absolutely dumb and goofy stuff.
But I'm not completely the same.
You'll probably find out soon anyways.

So yeah.

Thanks for sticking around this long. This was supposed to be a short update chapter, but it's late, and it turned into angst corner. I just needed to get that off my chest.

I'll see you around.

- Dark