As I begin to write, I find myself questioning if I'm taking the correct approach; even now, as I solidify that concrete gesture, I muse as to breaking it down once more.  Instead, I leave it be. I hope, bitterly, distantly, that I've not acted in a manner that would offend the very root of this dreaded humanity I've come to embrace.

Unfortunately, much of my life these past few months have proven similar.  With each action, I found myself doubting; I hope, somewhere, that I've made the right decision.  Decisions, unlike writing, can't be so easily undone; yet, each facet proves just as daunting.  I lack ambition, and I fail to understand why.  I don't act on that, because I've become comfortable with the idea of inaction.  All that harbors, unfortunately, is gradual decline.

So, needless to say, I've not kept to my promise of releasing new pieces of art.  I've not even, suffice it to say, kept up with my desire to pay attention to those few Deviants I'd pledged my notifications to.  I do, however, plan to write - if nothing else, I've found it an adequate escape, and one that reigns my ambition at times.  Take my word as you will, that is my present pledge.  I believe that it's time I stuck to it.  Here's to you, Deviants.