I’m falling into depression again. I don’t know why.

I’m still writing. I keep thinking of that speech by Neil Gaiman, where he says to just keep making art – in bad times, in good times, in any times at all. Make art.

Doesn’t matter if it’s terrible. It just matters that you do it, even when you don’t feel like you can make anything worthwhile. It makes the darker times feel less dark, when they’ve passed. Less like you’ve wasted an opportunity.

I feel better when I write. Even here, in this little blog that no one reads, I feel better for writing a few hundred words. I wonder if this is why therapists recommend keeping a journal?

This isn’t really a journal because I don’t actually talk about what I do, so there is that.

I think I’m going to sketch something.

After all, I need to make art.


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