Entry 7 : Nothing Is Random

Nothing is random, right?
Except for what I'm about to say because I hate to leave my seven loyal followers hanging.
Sorry, people.
I just don't know what to write about these days.
Gosh, I'm stressed out.

As crazy as it may suddenly sound, I feel so, I don't know, "stressed out" or something because I am very unhappy.
Not that I'm sad or depressed or all those junk feelings but I am seriously not happy.
Because I lack of INSPIRATION.
At least, for the last two years I could write about depression, love, happiness, darkness and everything but this year it's all been EMPTY.

I mean, what the Hell?
This may as well be the first blog where I speak like a normal person.
That's kind of awesome since I prefer writing in a very formal and appropriate fashion.
Anyway, I need to know why I lack inspiration.
Is it because I don't school anymore?
What's up with that?
How could that be a reason?
Or is it because everything's going so smoothly to the point where there isn't anything abnormal to write or draw about?

I really, really have the itch to write and draw.
I NEED to.
If I don't, my talents might get taken away and I don't want that to happen.
I tried writing, rhyming, thinking of words to be put together in a sentence to be put together in a verse to be put together to form a simple, lovely poem but it just won't happen.
I tried drawing, sketching, connecting dot by dot to try and forge an image worth gazing and admiring but I just end up in drawing childish and meaningless works of art.

I am so mad right now.
I'm mad at myself, infuriated by how pathetic I feel right now.
My talent-gauge is on the brink of emptiness and I can't think of even one, miserable way to try and fix this massacre of a problem.
I miss those days, I really do.
The days where I always had an idea at the top of my brain that was waiting to be written down and presented to the world.
I miss the days where my pencil would start moving by itself and by the time it stops, I'd drawn a masterpiece.
I want to relive the days where my mind was full of thoughts and my head was full ideas.
I want those days to still be around.
I want my ideas back.
I want my thoughts back.
I want my INSPIRATION back.

However, my inspiration is a person.
And that person is busy living her own life.
I don't want anyone else to be the topic of my art but I can't bore myself and others with the same old routine.
Every new piece is a new subject of interest.
Drawings and writings that I want to produce are supposed to differ from each other.
Pressuring myself into producing good works of art has proven to be helpful in the past but now it's as if I'm pressuring myself to make something I can't.
This feeling is making me so uncomfortable with myself.
Like, I can't live in this body anymore.
Truthfully, I'm getting bored with life.

I need to regain my sense of art.
I must reattain my inspiration.
I will do that.
I will succeed.
I will write new writings.
I will draw new drawings.
I will do the impossible.

Because, looking back at my old artwork, I get even more depressed every time I look at them.
Poor, old Mr. Fear.

"The beauty of a person will fade, but the beauty of art is everlasting"