The Winds of Change Can Make the Dominoes Fall too ...

It has been many miles in the rear-view mirror since I have come back to write specifically for this blog chapter.   Having published writing at a couple creative writing sites the past 2 +1/2 years of a roller coaster ride experience.   Perhaps not the right thing to do for someone with melancholy genetic tendencies , overactive anxiety hair trigger buttons of the highly sensitive. 

"All I was looking for was me ."

Let me just say those vulnerable to the side affects of their own imperfections .   There may be a few readers that understand what that means .

It's not like I have not been through this writing/publishing cycle before .   It is just the first time , I was more naive to the effects of raw honesty many have not seen , so they don't understand or don't give a damn .  That's cool !  The results were the same and over time  lost readers  disappeared who were not interested in the melancholy truth of mood disorder cycles or reading the creative side of it . . . about as vanilla as it can honestly be said.

After regrouping during a time when writing became the only relieving creative outlet , I tried publishing again but after a few deletes from unfavorable comments , I began holding back writing and only picking and choosing what to publish .   Soon it no longer felt true to myself and a back log of unpublished writing sits with dust gathering and even though there are hundreds of published items the reads have recently gone to near zero which means The Winds of Change Can Make the Dominoes Fall too ... writing and publishing publicly is a season . . . and seasons change . 

Some of this unpublished writing over the past 6 months is
complicated , but here is the only place I will publish the cathartic writing .  There is previous writing that was intended to be a part of this journey , but is not yet published here as part of this intended chapter and needs to be so there will be some republishing on "Diary of the Falling Dominoes" that was not gathered on these pages . . .

Who knows , maybe the time has come to discontinue all of this and just  leave me where you found me . . .

 . . . crossing muddy rivers . . . 2. 19. 2014