Is what I think to myself whenever I have what I consider to be a good idea. The better the idea, the more convinced I am that it will never happen again. No matter how many times that proves to be false. Because all those times were certainly just flukes, and surely, this time it really is my last good idea. I hate to start a sentence with “because” but there it is, so, suffer along with me.
This line of thinking applies equally to my ability to draw; just replace “good idea” with “turned out how I wanted, or better than I expected” or something along those lines. My mind insists on believing that everything I do that turns out great must have been a fluke.
And there are times when it seems more true than I want to believe, times when for some reason I can’t seem to draw to save my own life. I begin to think I will just give up and never draw again. Of course, I could sooner stop eating and drinking, so it never lasts. Still, during that time, I feel horrible, hollow and any art I try to make looks like it was drawn with my foot. Of course, during those times when my drawings turn out well, I’m shocked each and every time that I managed to make something that looks like what I was trying to portray, a sort of, “Holy crap, how did that happen again?” feeling that is basically the mirror of my “I’ll probably suck forever now and I’m not sure why.” sentiment.
It’s something like really wanting to eat something, and finding that all your cupboards are empty. Or they’re filled with shit you have absolutely no taste for. You keep searching anyways, and just get more and more frustrated, and you have no idea how stuff will end up being there again.