I've had a lull in my artistic life for a while now... And I don't really know how to get out of it. Draw a few things every now and again, but only when inspired greatly. And even then I often loose interest if I stop the drawing or whatever it is. And never pick it up again. I've got so many unfinished projects right now, its unbelievable. Just sitting here at my laptop I can look and count off several.

1, Midnight Heavens. Which is up but I don't think it's finished.
2, My Cenobite design for halloween, it's coming along. Some people know about that, some don't I've told a lot of people actually. But none of my really good friends that I haven't talked to in ages. It'll be a surprise on them I suppose. But that, is still in the design stages yet.
3, I have another heart drawing that I've been calling "Void" right now. But I don't wanna work on that again until my spray fixative gets here so I don't smear everything about worse than I can.
4, I have an "abstract water scape" that looks more like someone vomited up a rainbow than a water scape, that needs finishing.
5, And then the Sensual Drawings. I've loved both that I've done so far. And I really want to continue those. I just need the right mood for them, poses and everything of the sort.
6, Multiple half drawn charcoal sketches sitting on top of my shelves.
I fear that the depression I clawed out of, has either damaged my artistic abilities, or was my inspiration to draw. I have a job, and that job instead of giving me more tension and stress relives my stress, as well as any that it creates. The manual labor creating the docile sheep I have become.

No longer do I prowl about glaring at everyone like I once did. My face and eyes and mannerisms have softened. I am afraid that I have become institutionalized. One thing I never wanted. Occasionally I bring a sketchbook to work, and scribble something down in my free time, the small amount I have of it, and if someone walks in the break room. The inevitable question arises, "Why aren't you in art school?" And my pathetic excuse is always "It's expensive, and I don't have money. That's why I'm here."

Where as, truth be told I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to go to art school, afraid that I'm not good enough for it, that it's a waste of time, that... It doesn't matter why I'm not in art school, I'm not good enough for it. At least I don't think so. And I'm reaffirmed of this every day I go on Deviant Art, I'll look at spectacular drawings, things that I sometimes never even would have dreamed up in my wildest days. Things beyond what I thought could be archived with a pencil. And I see things that I know I could never do. Because I am my own worst enemy.

Is this a new eternal damnation? As I stand here on the precipice of self loathing and despise myself for everything I am, everything I'm not, the lingering doubt that makes me fear I am nothing but another sheep to be slaughtered when the time comes. And the knowledge that no matter how hard I climb, I'll never be able scale the mountain, and be free of those feelings. And that no one but me, can make me do it, and if anyone tried it would only end in me letting go forever, and loosing one of the biggest parts of my life, that has been a constant no matter where or what or how old I was.