I guess in the past few weeks it was easier to draw than to write. I guess in the even more recent past few weeks it was easier not to do anything (draw, write, speak…) than do things. I have kept myself occupied. I have tried alternatively to be a good girl and to submerge in the destructive force that runs wildly within. I have been petrol, a spark and a (fucking) big fire. I have been all of that and I have been none of it. That said – I have never remained in the golden middle. Only nights have become thinner.
I am tired.