I don't really draw anymore. It's a shame, really, but what can you do? My hands have other things to occupy themselves with.

I keep telling myself I'll pull out the old scanner, dust it off, try to find my fingers once again. I keep telling myself I'll call upon the muses, buy a tablet, pull out the things in my head like colored strings and lay them upon the paper. But when I try, the strings turn black and twist into letters. My fingers stutter in strange circles and make long S's across the page. Faces become ink blots. Eyes turn to I's.

I'd like to come back.

I'd like to.

I was never there to begin with.