It’s now been over three weeks since I left my job in that “real world” (RW) I reference sometimes. And I thought I would feel lost – that I would miss it horribly and at some point realize that I had made a huge mistake. That I would never fall back into the habit of drawing and dreaming that I claimed to have missed the entire time I was out in that RW.
I’ve been too busy waking up early to enjoy the dewy cool air before the last of summer burns it away, climbing rocks with strangers because I can, driving between little cities in New England in search of adventure (and free camping), and sleeping under the stars with only the chorus of the forest to lull me to sleep. I’ve been too busy filling my sketchbooks with words and drawings, slowly letting three years worth of ideas flow out through the end of my pen. These new lines of graphite and ink remind me of who I’ve always been.
This is where I’ve chosen to come. This is where I’m meant to be.
This is what is good.
B, from somewhere-in-Maine