While there shouldn't need to be an explanation at all, I've been trying to analyze and articulate how my relationship with expressing my imagination has changed, but I doubt it's in a state for others to understand. In summary, I used to have romantic aspirations, and I used to be testing my identity, and I used to think I could sell my talents without burning out, and now that all those questions are basically settled for good or ill, the question I wrestle with when entertaining my fantasies is "What is this for?" As old and tired as I am, I can still engage my libido, and it's still tied to creating, though most of it consists of writing and rewriting words to go with pictures I long ago finished drawing, trying to exactly capture what they're supposed to make me feel. And I guess I still make this stuff with the idea that others are going to see it, so I should remind myself to let people see it. Its purpose will have to be to inspire others to share experiences with partners, to inspire others to pursue meaningful transition, to inspire others to make more art that can sustain them. I've got to start letting it escape into your view if only because there is no more room for revision. I won't call this anything as formal as a resolution, but to the extent that such a narrow distinction of meaning exists, it could be called resolve. If there is anything to look forward to while waiting out the collapse of civilization, it's the satisfaction of knowing that some of you appreciate what I've made at least as much as all the other giant cartoon tits that are endlessly available to you.