~carvelshadows

It's an odd, peculiar and difficult feeling to be uninspired - especially when you are finally open to be inspired (not to insinuate that one was previously not open to it).
To be more specific, I mean myself and writing. I was always told I had a penchant for writing, a "real talent" (whatever that means). However, I didn't like to write. I always did though because something needed to come out of me in the form of language. I tried translating that need to create into other forms but to be honest, it's never quite as good as when I write. And now that I have opened myself to this world of manipulating language, nothing happens. But that's my life in a nutshell. I can't have both the want to write and the inspiration to write. Funny how now that I'm caring less about writing, I've had small sparks of words, the beginnings of phrases whisper through my brain.

If deleting deviantart were possible, I definitely would. I know I would end up making a new one and that would be fine. I'd post new pictures because I do not like the ones that are on here. But I guess I wouldn't be me if I did truly like anything I posted.

Is this making sense? Possibly. Or not.

At the very least, I see works on here (usually by strangers but sometimes by friends) that inspire me to continue.

What does it mean to be an artist?