Went back to NY for a week to see family and friends. My mom was drawing in a sketchbook that I used to use when we were down at the beach. Flipping through it I found an old sketch I did when I must have been in high school. What shocked me was how good it was. I used to draw all the time, I loved it. But for one reason or another, I just stopped. I think that if I went to draw something now, it would be nowhere as good as the sketch I found. I just lost the ability. And I guess that happens sometimes, people gain skills and experiences, it only seems fit that we can lose them too. But I miss the feeling I used to get as a child, spending hours on a picture, often a superhero, trying to get all the elements and poses right. To get it to pop off the page, the pride I felt showing to my mother, the pride I felt creating something out of nothing.
I shouldn’t be getting pains of nostalgia at 24.
