Hello.

So I haven’t written again for some time, and I thought that it was just because I had too many things to do.

Last night, I watched Dodie live in London at The Roundhouse, and I got to listen to many of her popular songs, even ones that she had written when she was still a teenager.

And the fact that she had just gotten better and more passionate at her craft made me think of mine.

I know I haven’t practised my writing and drawing for forever, and that had made me doubt if I still ever have the passion to do them.

I mean, I have written a few entries here on my blog a few months back, but I don’t think wouldn’t have done it if there weren’t any prompts.

I don’t even know what to talk about anymore. I feel like my imagination is still there but it’s not something that I could probably reenvision and put into words.

Drawing? I have 2 sketches that I haven’t rendered yet; one was from 3 years ago, another from the first half of this year. This staring at them makes me think that I couldn’t continue it without messing up, and I have always feared screwing things up.

Half of my following list on Instagram had been art accounts, but recently I started slowly unfollowing them, because it doesn’t inspire me that much anymore. I still have art materials stored in an ottomon at the foot of my bed, but I haven’t opened it in ages.

The only thing that is keeping me preoccupied is work. My chores doesn’t even cover a quarter of my waking hours during days off. Most of the time, I’m either on my phone or PS5. Hell, I don’t even read that much anymore. I started a book, only got through a few chapters, laid it on my bedside table, and left it there untouched for the past couple weeks.

I would promise myself, “Eh, I’ll start it again next year. I think I’ll be able to do it better,” but knowing myself, I wouldn’t be able to do it like I used to.