So... where do I begin?



I haven't posted one one these in nearly two years. And what two years! But I don't want to talk about them, little of what was not devastating is no longer of interest so long after the fact.

Let's face it, I don't think any of my journal entries up until now have been particularly lucid, for which I make no apologies because up until now I haven't actually been all that lucid. This is a continuous trend.

So art for so long. What's up with that? Apart from the very old and unfinished works I've had since I was more actively submitting art that I still have not completed to a degree I consider acceptable, the crappy little web images I've made since then that, which a mild exercise of my meagre skills I still do not consider pieces of art, and those few drawings I have managed to produce more recently but lacked the means to properly digitise, I've been going through a bit of a dry spell. Not due to lack of inspiration, since I've been haemorrhaging ideas at a rate that should be fatal if only I substituted "ideas" for "blood," which I am understandably resistant to doing. Though some days...

I've gone through so many big ideas for art and fiction, lost interest before anything has come of them, even recycling old concepts into new and better ones. This would be great for a creative process, if I would actually generate anything on the page. Believe me, I think you would really enjoy some of this stuff.

But.


Here's the dealy. I've been going through a major depressive period for some time now. It took along time to realise this, come to terms with this, and seek help. It has devastated my university performance, altered my behaviour towards more extreme quirks, neuroses and cloud cuckoolandering. It has meant I've lost interest in most of the things I really enjoy, such as writing, arty-making and regular correspondence with you guys. I've meandered from escapist fantasy to escapist fantasy to obsessive observation of insects. Worse of all, I've become withdrawn from my family to a degree that really upsets me when the magnitude of this behaviour hits home. My social and emotional development, already stunted for no apparent reason, has regressed. My social life would be dead in the ground if it weren't for the fact that it consisted only of a few very close friends, who have taken on a level of parenting activities second only to my family and actual parents, and they shouldn't have to be doing that.

In short, my webternet friends, I'm not doing all that well. I'm in a bad place, I'm not sure my medication is helping and there is a dementor hanging over me all the time. Except when I get manic. That's really weird.

This is what's up with me friends. Don't hold out for recovery any time soon, but I'm not dead, I don't plan to become dead, and I haven't forgotten you.


_{Also, I was getting really tired of seeing "I've got a rash" on my dA page, which was never really true to begin with.}