Finding Inspiration

I woke up at 4 a.m. Lit a cigarette. There is a certain clarity in my mind in the wee hours of the morning, maybe that's the reason I'm an early riser.

I wanted to make a portfolio. I needed inspiration. I wanted to draw something from my dreams, but, as of late, I wake up from dreamless sleep, or maybe I forgot them so easily. Those that do were as monotonous as my daily routine at work.

I looked at previous work that I liked. Perhaps being with people with same interests inspired me.

I took a picture book from Meow's shelf. I tried to draw a leopard hiding in the bushes. I stopped, unsatisfied, before I even applied color.

Meow used to tell me I have a habit of not finishing the job or overdoing it. Admittingly, yes, I do that.

I looked out the screen window, noticed drawings probably done by the previous tenant. I kinda liked it, even if it seemed to resemble a geometric phallus, whatever it may be.

I sometimes wonder why I keep doing the things I do, knowing I am not very good at it. I really want to be good at something. To this day, I remain uncertain of my purpose. I turned thirty last December. I should know.

I think it's weird that I sometimes go on a monologue in the morning, similar to this, with no one really hearing, yet I still keep on doing it. It's a habit I had for as long as I could remember.

I am at peace today, more than usual, as the day normally brings frustration, mostly about the inadequacies I wish I did not have.

I just heard roosters crowing. It sounded great. I think today's gonna be a good one.