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.