An itch I can't help but scratch

I always knew I wanted to create—anything and everything. Not too long ago, I tried not making a single thing. I just sat there thinking. It was eating me inside. My heart would race, my jaw would tighten, my lips would quiver. Breathe, I would tell myself.

Life today seems to hold so much meaning, and yet nothing at all, at the same time. The only thing that brings me peace is making "things" . It’s almost as if I’ve fallen subject to a spirit living inside me. I acknowledge it. It gives me fuel to move forward in a world of loss and isolation.

My mind is clear. I’m not sure what life has in store for me in the coming years, but I hope to make these moments count. To entertain us in a world of utter meaninglessness, I will create short stories. These stories will help me express myself.

I’m working toward sobriety, and this seems to help me on my mission. I have a new addiction—and that is art itself. I will create with a clear mind and make visuals with intention.

If you’re still reading this, I appreciate you.