I used to draw dragons you see.
All the time. I was quite good.
It irks me (i like that word.. “irk”) that as much as i try now, nothing even vaguely close to my former glory comes out.
It’s like it’s been stolen from me.
I used to draw so much… fairies, angels, elves, cats, dragons, dogs, wolves… i love wolves…
and now, when i draw… i draw lines and swirls and little flowers that always look like they’re dying.
nothing.. IMPORTANT comes out.
either it’s being blocked.. or it’s all gone.

I thought of starting a webcomic. but i can’t draw anymore. i’ve tried so hard. it starts out simple.. but it just turns into chaos on the page.

I used to write as well. i had about 50 stories going all at once when i was younger. sci fi, fantasy, historical… i even started writing a kind of a detective novel. but now.. i struggle to write even this!

we were talking of living lives and selling lives… i wonder what i would do if i had a second chance at things… knowing what i know now.
would i still fall for him? just to go through all this heartache again? would the 7 years be worth it?

going back… would i go up, instead of down… and still have my teeth and control of my mind and no scars?
going back further… would i fall for the boy in the uniform again?
going back even further… would i stay in the hall with my young friend, or would i go outside… and everything that led to?

why am i thinking of these things?
these things happened. i don’t have a second chance. i can’t change anything now. these things made me what i am today. is this a bad thing? or a good thing?

and what do i do now?
my panic is rising. steel bands of fear around an already timid heart. my life stretches ahead with no clear path.
and when i start to think too hard… i can’t even see myself getting old. will i die before i do? is that why i don’t see anything ?
do other people see me?
am i even here?