The cycle has reared its ugly fucking face again and my latest hyperfixation has lost its appeal to my fickle eyeballs. Now I get to have an existential crisis as the clinical depression I use video games to escape comes back to fuck me until something new takes my interest, only for the cycle to repeat itself again one day. Until then I get to feel like a piece of shit accomplishing none of my hopes or dreams or goals incapable of improving myself. I want to draw. But I can't. I've never been good at drawing, and I've never been able to get past how demoralizing it is to have had the same childish artstyle since I was newborn despite so many years of doodling. I want to draw. I desperately want to draw. But I can't. And until I can, I get to continue having no sustainable outlet for my feelings, and I get to continue feeling like a useless piece of shit who can't do anything. I'd go into how this affects my actual real life, but there's only so much I can rant about on this topic before I just lie down and stare at the ceiling feeling no emotions except a distant sense of misery, and talking about how this is affecting everything other than the previously mentioned thing is a one stop shortcut to floor street. Jesus fucking christ. I should look into getting a different therapist.