It's been three years since I've picked up a pencil and attempted to create a masterpiece; three years ago art came to me easily, my muse burned my thoughts with vibrant colors and daring fantasy worlds. I poured my emotions into my work, every line representing a thought that flew soundlessly through my head.
I was never the pretty type and drawing was my way of becoming noticed; when I lost my art touch, i felt that i had lost it all. No one would notice me. I had fallen to darkness, never to draw again.
I remember the moments when I tried to draw, it was frustrating. The lines wouldn't curve the way I wanted them to; my people looked like lopsided aliens. In frustration, I hid all of my work away. I didn't want to see anything that reminded me of what I had lost.
Now, three years later, I've picked that pencil back up. My lines are shaky, but they flow the way I wish them to. I'm only hoping that I can regain my talent through hard work.
I used art to express myself, and I'm ecstatic that the door has opened once again for me. But I'm wondering if I had this in me all along. Or perhaps I gave up too quickly, too easily. I'm not even sure how I came about my new burst of inspiration; how my muse took its first breath and awakened the dormant but creative soul inside of me..

Expect new artwork. A bunch of it.