I don’t want to stick out like a weed in a field of wildflowers.

But it’s too late.

It’s been days since I’ve last picked up my phone. Still, it feels like years. It didn’t used to be this way. I used to pick it up all the time and spend hours writing stories and poem. The whole world could see them. The whole world on this app. Daily Prompt. Not daily for me.

Not anymore.

No more notifications every day. They followed you. They like your writing. They comment on your writing. They liked your comment. I’ve given up. It’s too much.

How do they expect me to do this every day. I can’t.

But I can try.

So I write this message, this story, to extend my streak. To extend it to one. Tommorow will be two. Then three, four, five.

But that’s not the only reason I write this. I also write it tell you, and myself, to write a story. A poem. Extend your streak. Then, you won’t be a zero day streak weed in a field of hundred day streak wildflowers.