nolan_void

Last night I started feeling kind of weird, as if I were about to be on the verge of falling into depression, and somehow I took the energy and emotion from it and redirected it. I found inspiration in the desires and longings that were stirring, an opportunity to tell a story about those kinds of dreams and passions that seem so far out of reach, so impossible to attain. I guess it goes back to an old question of whether or not it is nothing more than our inability to believe in certain things that makes them impossible. I finally took an old character of mine, who has changed a lot over time, and decided that he needed to see things in a new light, to have a fresh story behind him. Formerly he was very sombre and rather tragic, and I found that there was very little meaning left in that sort of story for me. It doesn't accomplish what I feel a story should do for me. I need to be lifted up, inspired by a story, and encouraged to believe, with honesty and good faith, that life is amazing and enriching and completely worthwhile even in the face of hardship. And the realization of this need helped me find a way to write a story about something I love in such a way that I was able to find it within myself.