Followers list keeps going up while I do nothing, draw nothing and I'm still a boring log. I wonder when will I re-take art as if I actually enjoyed the gruelling isolation of sitting perfecting something someone would notice once and then move on to the next hot thing?

I always tried that my art expressed how I felt, now I see younger artists expressing the same, maybe it's their feelings and not mine, but hey, it would overflow the market with drawings of Sad Girls.

What do I feel now? Defeat, resentment, anger, sadness, mostly at myself for being who I am. Sure life goes on and I have my own life to maintain balanced but I ripped art out of my life like a tumour.... and I miss drawing for fun, now I can't even look at a pen without breaking into a sobbing mess.

Maybe I could direct my anger to God or say the bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were also art to the eggheads that developed them, maybe a pile of corpse in My Lai was art to the jarheads that opened fire, maybe a mass grave was art to the Einsatzkommando in charge. Maybe art doesn't equal good. Maybe art doesn't mean effort or soul. Maybe I'm just rotten and I'll just be left to die.