My hands feel crippled. I'm working hard, trying to get this calligraphy done.

It looks good, so far. No spelling mistakes (woo!), and only one error I need to correct with a razor blade (thank goodness the ink just sits on top of this paper).

I'm beginning to hate my brain.

I was thinking the other day, while I agonized over layout and colouring, that the only problem with being really awesome, is people keep expecting you to be awesome.

Each piece must be more awesome than the last in order to maintain the same level of awe.

It's exhausting.

I'm starting to resist, though. I can feel it. I'm tired, and I just want to sleep for a while, and do some things for me. Like finish my quiver, make a new bracer, a new set of arrows, replace my ragged garb.

But...I know I'm good. I don't mean to sound cocky, but I believe it to be true (I think that might be the very definition of cocky).

When someone asks me to do something, and I can't, they assure me it's alright and they'll get so-and-so to do it...

...but I always see that little something in their eyes. That disappointment that I'm unavailable, that they have to go to someone else.

The smile stays on, but it no longer reaches the eyes.

I want to help everybody. I want everyone to be happy, everyone to have the best work they can get, everyone to have everything.

I'm just tired. I gotta go back to my inks.

The lettering is all done, at least. Now I just have to ink in the line work, then slap some paint on it.

Then do it all over again.

.

Rosie.

Before&After