It’s been far too long since I’ve written for my own creation, Gothic Bite Magazine. Once alive with daily articles, passionate writers, and a thriving gothic community, GBM was my dream made real.

But like many creators, I fell victim to burnout, depression, and the changing tides of social media. What was once a beacon for gothic souls became silent. This is the story of how I lost my way—and how I’m reclaiming the shadows to bring Gothic Bite Magazine back to life.

It’s been over two months since I last wrote a single word for my own creation, Gothic Bite Magazine. It’s strange to admit that, considering how much of myself is woven into its every corner. There was a time when GBM was alive every single day of the week, a pulse beating with creativity, passion, and community. Back then, there was a writer for each day, submissions flooding in, interviews lined up, and readers eager for more.

It was glorious.

That was 2018 to 2020, not even that long ago, yet it feels like another lifetime. Back then, I was happy, motivated, myself. Social media still felt like a place for connection, not algorithms and bots choking the life out of organic growth. People genuinely wanted to be part of GBM, musicians, authors, models, artists. It was formidable.

But the world shifted.

Gothic Bite Magazine was never just a hobby for me. It was a dream, one I hoped could someday become my livelihood. And for a while, it seemed possible. Then the cracks began to form. Writers came and went, friendships dissolved, and I found myself navigating that slow, inevitable rotation of change. 

Once upon a time, I could post “GBM is looking for new weekly writers!” and have my inbox overflow with interest. Now, that kind of response feels almost mythical. Social media killed that connection, strangled it slowly under the weight of ads and empty engagement.

Yet, GBM was never meant for the masses. It’s niche, unapologetically so. It’s a reflection of who I am inside: darker with a crooked smile, enchanted by the paranormal, in love with monsters, drawn to the candlelit aesthetic of dark academia, and forever at peace among gothic ruins. GBM welcomes those who feel the same pull, the goths, the dreamers, the ones who find beauty in decay and poetry in the shadows. Fashion, music, film, books, if it’s touched by darkness, it belongs.

When Gothic Bite first came to life, it thrived. It was everything I’d ever wanted, my dream realized. But when I fell from that high, I fell hard. There was no cushion to break my fall, only the cold, hard ground. For three years, it felt like I was buried in my own grave, not metaphorically dramatic, but painfully real.

Depression consumed me.

I drifted from friends, from myself, from the very thing that once defined me. GBM wasn’t even in my top ten thoughts, there was only a void. The things that once healed me, long walks, nature, even my quiet moments in cemeteries became impossible.

Three years of a vicious cycle. Yet somehow, through that darkness, one ember refused to die: the dream. My dream of seeing Gothic Bite Magazine on shelves, tangible and alive, isn’t gone. It’s just been waiting for me to rise again.

And I’m trying.

I’m not alone either. I still have incredible writers beside me, including James Vaughan, who’s been with GBM since the very beginning. Their faith reminds me that this dream isn’t a ghost; it’s still breathing, waiting for me to feed it life again.

The first obstacle was and remains social media. It’s a different beast now, soulless and oversaturated, where creativity gets buried under sponsored posts. But that’s just one hurdle, not the end of the road. The bigger obstacle was me: my depression, my exhaustion, and yes, if I’m honest, a touch of laziness born from it. I’m someone who needs structure, and without it, I drift. And I drifted far from GBM for far too long.

This piece isn’t about clinging to the past or reclaiming “the glory days.” It’s about rebirth. I’m writing this as a promise to myself, to GBM, and to those who still believe in what it stands for. I want to build new glory days, not mourn the old ones.

Because Gothic Bite Magazine was never just a platform it’s home. A haven for every gothic soul who feels misplaced in the daylight. It’s where the misfits, the romantics, and the monsters at heart find their kindred spirits.

GBM is my home. My creation. My dream.

And I’m not ready to let it slip through my fingers. I’m a gothic soul and a monster at heart and monsters don’t quit. We rise again, darker, wiser, and stronger.

The night isn’t over for Gothic Bite Magazine. It’s just beginning anew.