I wish.

Those two words, damned and damning.

I wish I knew how to describe it.

I wish I knew how to describe anything.

I wish I wouldn’t delete this over and over again, not satisfied with the words. I wish my life was different. I wish I could go back. I wish I could let things go. I wish I could start over. I wish I wasn’t 28 and broke.

I wish I had done something.

I wish I had done anything.

I wish I had confidence. I wish I was productive. I wish I was successful. I wish I was wealthy. I wish I was healthy. I wish I had friends. I wish I had'nt ruined everything. I wish I would’ve kept in touch. I wish I could say i’m happy.

I wish. I wish. I wish. I wish.

I wish I wasn’t a revolving door of despair and shame.

I wish I could post this.

The more I think about my life, the more I realize my life has been more a collection of wishes, could’ve would've, has, plans, schedules, ideas, thoughts, hopes, dreams, and regrets.

Not a life of action, not a life of events or accomplishments.

A life filled with beginnings, of sorts, and with no real endings.

Like a broken faucet, gushing, the water is me, my essence, but there is nothing catching it, no container, my stories are supposed to be this for me. My work, my narratives are containers of me, mostly my emotions, or ideas or fantasies or fears.

The problem is i’ve been trying to finish even one narrative for what feels like the majority of my entire life. Since elementary school to be exact.

Every word I write on a narrative a hundred more become needed.

I am beginning to doubt my ability to finish even one.

That’s where The Journal of A.R. comes in

So what is The Journal of A.R.

Well, I want it to be a collection of my essence if you will.

I’ve long wondered what would it be like to read someone’s diary, someone’s actual life. as it happened? In the thick of it.

Like Elon Musk or Trent Reznor, or Stephen King. Or countless others that have influenced me.

Now I would never compare myself to the heights they’ve accomplished, but my ambitions are at that level.

So…. As a saying goes, ‘if there is something you want and it doesn’t exist, then it is your duty to create it'

So The Journal of A.R. is and will be a dairy of my life.

I have no idea what the format will look like or be. But I hope this will be what I spoke of before. A container of my life.

Obviously there will be a few limitations. Since this is public. I will refrain from speaking about certain people or events that could be sensitive to them. Or revealing information that they would want to be private like stories or etc.

This will be on a case by case basis and maybe some people won’t mind

So unlike everything I have ever written, I don’t know what the end goal is for this project.

I know I want to dig deeply, into my process for writing and personal events, but I have no idea, if it will be entertaining or even valuable at the end.

And worse even what if, I just drop this entire thing off. Like the million other things I have in life.

I hope I don’t. I certainly don’t plan on it..

I wish, I wish this to be a beginning of sorts.. - AR

Thank you for reading my journal.