I've had alot of time to sit alone and ponder who I am, and what it is I'm doing with my life. And the answer is not alot. I'm surrounded by folks who are making driving efforts to become something wonderful. People who are well on their way to being pro artists, or almost done with what's sure to be a best selling novel. A master of martial arts, and a well-to-do gent who works a respectable law job.
Then I look again at who I am and how I have nothing to show for anything. This gallery with it's little fetish cartoons, that aren't even all that good by industry standards, are the only mark I'd have left on this world if I were to buy it tomorrow. I'm not the kind of person who is obsessed with a legacy, because I realize that time makes all things obsolete. But in the moment I feel the weight of my failure as a person. As a pitiful excuse for a male.
What good is it for me to continue this farce? I spend so much time working away on a comic that's half-assed at best. I produce poorly illustrated images of girls in bondage that only garner views -because- of the nature of their subject matter.
Ten years from now, I don't want to look in the mirror and see the same broken down excuse for a man that is currently greeting me every morning. Well, afternoon actually, since I don't bother to even wake up anymore unless it's a must.
no worries! not sure what i'm gonna do with my stories, i do wanna share 'em with you, but it took me months to get to the point where i could make DA work....
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