My phone showed me a memory of a drawing I made for no other reason than my love of drawing. And I miss who I was when I made that. I was en route to returning to that person until I lost Flickie.

All of my art this year, when I could be fucked to make it was the eternal echo I feel when I lean into my raw pain from my grief.

I kept talking big about making a comic my whole online art career and had very little to show for it. I want ...to ultimately write that comic. But before that I want to find joy in my art again. The piece my phone showed me from like 4 years ago wasn't that great, but I could remember the fun. Flickie loved that for me. That I had this side.