† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

I’m not sure when it happened, but it came like a breeze.

From one era to the next, I stopped doing a lot of the things I used to love. I don’t know if I let outside forces influence me, or if it was always me—the one who slowly let go.

I remember buying a Canon camera from a coworker because I loved taking pictures with my S22. It had a decent camera and features that let me capture some amazing shots, especially at night.

Life wasn’t perfect, but it also wasn’t that bad.

I would go to work, enjoy my days off, take small trips—to Ruidoso, Cloudcroft, even towns like Hatch, Deming, White Sands. And I appreciated those moments. I would record them, take pictures, write poetry, or just rant about whatever came to mind.

But now… it feels different.

It feels like a drag. Like a waste.

The last time I used my GoPro was a year ago. I took some pictures back in February in New Mexico, but it didn’t feel the same. I had extra batteries, more storage, better equipment—and still, something was missing.

It wasn’t enough.

Something shifted. I don’t know if it was my priorities, my view of life, or if I just lost something along the way.

And no—this isn’t a love tirade.

But it’s not not about that either.

Now it’s just routine.

Work. Go home. Drink. Fall asleep to music videos.
Repeat.

Somewhere in that cycle, I get stuck in my own mind—reminiscing, replaying things, looping through memories until it all starts to feel empty.

Maybe I’m blaming everything around me instead of taking responsibility.
Maybe not.

I don’t have a clear answer.

But I know what this feels like.

It feels like something inside me collapsed… like my spirit caved in and left a space I can’t fill anymore.

Yeah, I can chase quick dopamine hits like I always have—but those only burn creative bridges. I’m not finishing my books anymore. My poems. My songs. Projects I once cared about just sit there, untouched.

Every now and then, I’ll get a spark.

I’ll go walk with my mom and the dogs. Run errands. Work on the house. Do something normal.

And for a moment, it feels alright.

But then there are days where I wake up and don’t want to do anything at all.

Maybe I coped the only way I knew how—by detaching. By freezing everything in place so I wouldn’t have to feel it fully.

The breakup.
Getting run over… almost dying more than once.
Losing my jefito.

All of it just sits there, untouched… like time paused at the moment it hurt the most.

And somewhere along the way, I drifted off the path completely.

Into something I don’t recognize anymore.

So don’t be surprised if I fade out.
If the posts end… or echo on for no one.

Right now, I’m walking through something I can’t fully name.

But it feels familiar.

Like a place I’ve been before—
only this time…

it didn’t LET GO.