I aspired to be an artist once upon a time. I was young and naive. I thought I could do it. I convinced myself I could. Seven years down the line, I now face a dead end.

The reality is I went into this whole thing for all the wrong reasons. My heart and my mind were never in it to begin with, and any attempt to rekindle that spark I once thought I had has faultered.

I kept slacking, every new piece start would most likely never see the light of day, I'd brush off advice subconsciously, I'd have ocassional bursts of inspiration, the list goes on. I'm not having fun, and I never did.

Maybe one day I'll return to do it again. Maybe. But right now, as I see it, I highly fucking doubt that I will.