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Written on January 19, 2026Matthew, The Workshop, and Villa
2023 was when I started writing seriously with my autobiography and journal. It is particularly at this time that my stories took on this idea of the epitome of grace and beauty, the idea of individuation, the idea of becoming, the idea of self-actualization, the idea of totalization.
Before that, my writings were very much playful, experimental, surreal, and random. 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019.
It was only in 2023 that my writings took on a psychologically realistic and philosophical character, where the power fantasy is used to make way for the totalization of the self amid the psychological torture and anguish. This was only solidified in 2024 from January to April.
From May to December 2024, I did not write any long-form work.
But from June to September in 2025, I put myself through 4 months of accelerated, relentless critique feedback loops and created a collection of 128 vignettes (scheduled to publish one a day) with a total of 58,800 words. It was under a workshop voice that combined elements of the following:
That workshop voice diverged sharply from my February–April 2024 Matthew (my longest fiction at 200,000 words and the flagship work for that era of "the epitome of grace and beauty" psychological realism) style that combined elements of the following:
From October 5 to November 14, 2025, I wrote my latest longest story (72,000 words) Villa, which came directly out of the workshop period. It involved elements of the following:
But let's go back in time to 2023, with the flagship story of that year, Peter, a pre-cursor to Matthew. These are the elements of its style:
2022 (Don):
2022 (Our Leader):
2021 (Google Docs):
2020 (Wattpad):
2019 (What Do I Want):
As for the stories depicted in this "writer writing about writing" What Do I Want story, these are their style:
And recently, I've gotten closure and healing on August 2025, especially following my completion of 3.5 million words in a two-year span for my autobiography-journal on July 4, 2025. At the start of January 2026, I also reached the end of my oeuvre and the end of the three struggles: struggle for psyche, struggle for what to write (oeuvre), and struggle for method (competence).
Today is now January 19, 2026, the day before my birthday. Now, it feels like "a ship's logbook, like killing time, regulating myself, doing whatever, remaking like Disney." I'm metaphorically just "watering the plants," but I can still access the flow state instantly and write thousands of words every day. But yes, there's no more urgency. "Boring" is probably a good stark word for it. Maybe, it's objectively just "mundane" and "normal," since "boredom" is relative in this case.