Last summer was strangely wonderful, I was almost happy. I spent my days in enjoyable manners and honestly tried to become better at drawing. I appreciated art so much and was fascinated by water color techniques and fantasy art. I tried so hard to learn atanomy better and how to be create with fantasy things.

I ran often and slept outside in the rain. I climbed pines and explored more than ever before. I had beautiful dreams and my mind seemed purer. But so many things have happened... my dad's slaying what ever creative and beautiful things that once dwelt in my mind, and I can't bring them back. Parts of me are dead that I thought could never die, and now I'm left to wonder why. I've tried so hard not to let my dad break me, but maybe I steeled my heart a bit to much and things died. I feel empty; I know what I'm missing, I remember them clearly, but I don't know how to get them back, if I ever can. I haven't drawn one fantasy thing in months, and that's... strange.

During most of last summer I felt so alive, but now I feel so... not quite dead, and not lost, but so... missing.