"Why are you writing less? Are you busy?"
"Hey. I got no news from you. Did you stop making literature?"
"Got no inspiration? We've got no word from you."
It's not that I am busy, it's not that I stopped and more importantly, not that I got no inspiration. I still write but it progresses so slow I can't finish it within a day or two. I....I still make babies with poems and stories but it takes a long time before I can finally deliver it to you.
"You told me you'll gonna give me a portrait, you liar!"
"It's already 2019, haven't you finish yet? It's just a simple art! Geez!"
"You're just making me wait for decades now, forget it. I won't believe you anymore!"
Right. I'm sorry but I can't make sketches anymore. I can't draw. I can't, even if I wanted to. I kept you wait but believe me, it's not my intention, really. It's just if it visit, everything just seem so tiring. That I forgot how to make such things. Like I'm in a factory reset. I can make bunch of words but it's just so hard to produce some it always get to see the bin before your eyes.
Sorry but I can't do anything. Not until it left me again.
