Finally, I have come to terms with the fact that I draw the way I do.

For years, you’d never catch me without a notebook and a pen. At some point, I stopped because of the pressure I put on myself. I felt increasingly awkward around bystanders and friends who – or so I thought – expected me to draw pretty or witty things. I began to hate my drawings, and drawing itself, to the point of disgust. But now enough time has passed, I think, and I’m happy to report that I enjoy drawing again.