Sometimes I wonder whether or not everything that I have
worked for was worth it, whether or not the field that I pursued was really
worth pursuing. I let these thoughts bubble inside of my head, somewhat
crushing me in fear, pushing me out of doing things that I used to enjoy. Writing
was one of the things that made me feel happy in the past. I was able to create
something from nothing, much like an artist or someone who would sketch or
draw. I was always envious of others who could draw. I can draw, but I don’t
consider it amazing. I can free-form draw some things but I never felt they
were adequate. This becomes a problem when you want to write your own graphic
novel. I say it repeatedly, but I never do it. I need to learn to stop saying
things and start doing. That’s one of my biggest problems, and I have been
starting to do things, more than say I am. It’s working out, and it’s good.
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