Even if I haven't reached the age where my life's woes can be read across the top of my forehead, the skin on my hands speaks volumes. I try hard to control this, but it's of no use. Ever since I was a teenager I've used the dry skin around my nails as an excuse to pick and prod the area whenever I've been fretting. The fact that my skin withers at the touch of dishwater probably doesn't help either.
I have no idea what I am to do with my life. I am quite lucky - so far I have managed to secure most of my goals in life - steady relationship, steady income and benefits, full independence. But I lack the creative core that links all those elements together, to make them even more satisfying. I am creatively dead. I want creativity back in my life, but it's crawled far into the recesses of my imagination, to make way for the more "important things". Damn university! I completely drained myself during those last four years. I need to start from scratch all over again.
I keep telling my friends I desire to be one of those people driven by their one core passion - whether it be writing, drawing, acting etc. But no one seems to quite get what I mean or why I am so impatient for it. I can't picture myself doing any one thing in life. I am too lazy to pursue the "dream". I want to love my art, but not whip myself into shape to work on it.
