I can feel the tension now.

It never goes away. It comes back every time I venture into something creative like drawing or writing.

I probably had my tails between my legs for so long that I didn’t they all got stuck up my ass.

So why bother? I guess I’m looking for a change. I’m older, not sure I’m wiser. But desperate?

I’m getting close.

Reading that story about a woman who died alone, barely making a living working at Disneyland. I’m quite afraid of many things at this point. Afraid enough to write and draw something.

I mean, can I be like her? Can anyone be like her? And I realized, yes, this is possible for anyone.

I can feel the tension in my neck.