thank you to people to wish me a birthday. it happens every years, so it is to be expected. i don't remember things being as bad as they were over the years, maybe it was just me being blind to the good things that made life worth it, no matter how bitter i was about it. i can say for certain that i'm not as self-deprecating as i used to be, but still retain elements of doubt and shame from years of lonesome wanderings and lack of social skills. as for my art, i don't refer to myself as an artist. though it may seem like i know what i'm doing, i really don't. i don't know anything about drawing. i don't know fundamentals, perspective, color, and worse of all, consistency. the only thing i like about the art process is thinking about composition, emotion, and concept, but as far at that goes, putting idea to canvas is the most difficult, and often most stressful part. i'm pretty much done trying to become a better artist and learn more about illustration. it's just too hard and there are so many other people who do it better than me, so follow them instead. it's not fun anymore. i'll probably disappear altogether at some point when i have nothing left to show, and that's fine. i'm had my time, and my voice, now it's time to move on and shit. i don't know what to do with my life.