I owe you an explanation.
I owe myself an explanation.
And today, I will finally explain.

Today, I went back and read Floating to Oblivion, every word and line that I'd turned over an over in my mind before sharing it with you all. I stepped back into Jo's fractured world of insanity, her colorful symphony that no one else ever seemed to understand (except you all). I was prepared for the nostalgia tugging at the corners of my mind- life was so intense and vibrant then.

I was prepared to deeply regret decisions I would later make (I ended up doing the one thing a thriving writer should never, ever do- I stopped writing). It's been over a year since I just   dissapeared- I knew I would be visiting ghost town, where I left all my dreams to die.

But then I went back to read your comments, all the wonderful feedback. I remember being so grateful, and I still am because you guys have given me everything I needed to chase my dream- confidence, reassurance, kindness. Such genuine and insightful words; your support meant literally everything to me.

And I broke down right there.

For what seemed like an eternity I sat on the edge of my bed, weeping. Choking on grief for those deceased dreams, catching my breath just to let it go moments later, heaving and coughing. My own words and yours, connecting and overlapping and whirlwinding and trying to escape. But tears would never be enough to release the pain I'd brought upon myself.

Of course I didn't actually stop writing entirely- that would be impossible for me. But I found myself writing poetry a lot less often and nothing seemed to flow our pierce my soul with emotion anymore. That incredibly powerful, overwhelming force that always awakened my senses whenever my heart had something to say and spat words from my brain with wicked precision and clarity- it was fading. And then it was faded.

Now faded, but not faded away.
Not yet.

So, after I had cried out whatever I could, I thought about what I'd been shoving to the back of my mind for months. I know what I am capable of, the passion and ambition and curiosity. I was always grasping for the sun, surrounded by stars that where never bright enough to satisfy that aching, pulsating hunger. Gone, the terrifying glee of knowing that nothing could pacify my rage!

And while I am still that person in the innermost center of my being, I have changed a lot over the past year and a half. I have been experimenting with my writing, and peices of who I was, peices of Jo, are definitely still there. But there's something different, I think. Something swimming up to the surface, the beggining of a new era. I can't tell if it's good or bad yet, I've just returned to my path and I can't tell where it leads anymore.

But I've promised myself, and I promise you: this time I will not stop writing. Now that I've been honest with you all and myself about the uncertainty and fear I'm facing, there's nothing stopping me from diving into the unknown, the possible next oblivion. I've sung the truth's bittersweet melodies, just like Jo had to, just like everyone has to at some point in life.

There is just one more note I would like to sing before this little symphony ends:

Just so you all know, my name is Joy. When I discovered the name Aurelius, I thought it was one one the most beautiful things I've ever known, so I made it my alias. And it still is my alias, but please feel free to call me by my real name as I (or we, hopefully) float into whatever comes next.

Thank you all for everything.

With eternal adoration,
Joy