The future is, as it always has been, an open question. It holds both promise and uncertainty, joy and hardship. Perhaps the key lies in accepting that life will continue to ebb and flow. Stability may never be a permanent fixture, but it doesn’t have to be. What matters is the ability to adapt, to cherish moments of calm, and to remain hopeful in the face of change.

"I am" is not merely a statement of existence; it’s an invitation to explore what it means to be. This project is not about crafting a neat, cohesive narrative of my life. Instead, it’s about embracing the messiness, the contradictions, and the unresolved questions. It’s about finding the threads of continuity in a life that often felt disjointed.

I miss the rush. The excitement. The sense of being in motion and surrounded by energy. I want that feeling again, desperately. I need something—someone, somewhere, something—to reignite the fire in my belly, but I don’t know where to look. I feel ridiculous, wallowing in this unmotivated sadness, waiting for a spark that never seems to come.

I embrace my power.

Still, I am trying to hold onto hope, fragile though it may be. I remind myself that energy does not have to be a warning; it can also be a gift, an opportunity to focus on self-care and wellbeing. Learning to trust these moments, to believe they are not always harbingers of collapse, feels like its own act of resilience.

Art, by its nature, demands reinvention. The canvas of life is always changing, presenting new colors, textures, and inspirations. To grow, I’ve had to stretch beyond what feels comfortable, experimenting with techniques and exploring ideas that challenge me. Sometimes this process is exhilarating; other times, it’s deeply humbling, as I confront my own limitations. But every misstep, every attempt that doesn’t quite land, has been as valuable as my successes. These moments are not failures—they’re stepping stones, each one teaching me something vital about my craft and myself.