My brain has an issue.
I can't draw like I used to, for almost three years now.
Something broke after psychosis. Something that makes me faulty.
So I beg and plead and pray, but these illustrations are the furthest I was able to get to how I used to illustrate. My rendering, drawing and everything isn't there, it has gone somewhere far away never to return.
My aunt that mumbled something about me being 'grieving' under her breath when I had mentioned my art loss. I guess I am. It's dead and gone, my abilities.
I am suffering. People around me are massively inconsiderate of how much I am suffering. Still, I draw, because drawing was breath to me before. Drawing gives me an ecstasy that can't be achieved through other means. So I am in pain tonight, lost in these facts that I am broken, but want to continue to work on a picture I'm making. Because I found myself capable of doing these pictures. I felt true joy again in making these pictures, like something is starting to change. This transformation I've been begging for, that will see my brain 'healed'.
Nah. It's just a bunch of flukes. I would put in the effort of talking about these pictures, but am too tired and nobody is reading this anyways. So much for trying to be positive, goodbye.