Shutting Down Musings of a Non-Sparkly Aspergian

Well, it’s been a long ride. That’s all I can say objectively. After three years, 199 posts (counting this one), and over 200,000 words, Musings of a Non-Sparkly Aspergian is done. I’ve said this once before. It’s been half a year since then, but I’m sticking to it this time.

I just can’t justify the amount of effort that goes into all but the laziest of my posts on a platform where people don’t read them. I’ve got multiple books of my own to work on, a full time job, and as much sword training and weightlifting as ever. There were a dozen times it looked as though the blog might suddenly take off, but it never has. The best I can say is that it’s not my fault. With exceptions so sparse I can count them on the scars of one thigh, I have always given this blog my best. I have more I could give, but no wish to give it.

If you enjoyed it and you’re going to miss it, I’m sorry. I simply can’t see a reason to keep pushing this thing. I could’ve been published by now (several times over, possibly) if not for all the energy I’ve wasted here. And I’m sorry to say that word, but it’s true. What you’re looking at here is a collage made from pieces of my soul. Comb back through all the posts in retrospect and I think you’ll find most of those pieces were ignored completely. You cannot imagine how painful it was to think that the passion and skill in each new post would have to grab somebody, only to receive emptiness again and again and again. Even the “closest” of my “friends” routinely ignore everything posted here. If I am to be broken down, I’ll at least have something to show for it. Callouses, strength, scars, a good story to tell. This rout offers nothing.

Bird’s Eye View will remain forever unfinished. Not much of a tragedy since no one was reading that either (again, I have the statistics). As much as I’d like to, too much of that material is up on the Internet. That means I can’t just republish it elsewhere. I’ll miss what might’ve been, but I knew this was coming.

Maybe the world will have some interest in my books. But as to the rest of my thoughts, it seems they’re as burdensome as ever. I’m stubborn and angry, but sooner or later I have to take a hint. This dream was meant to die from the start.

Say something, darn it!

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