I've rediscovered my love for drawing. I've also got my imagination back after losing it in one of my drawers, just in case anybody's keeping track.

I'm not a very good artist, I'll be the first to admit it. I draw like a crazyman. The hands on the characters that I draw are basically bloated lumps of Play-Doh with chipolatas stuck in them. Their eyes are always too big, they rarely have ears and their hair is always pencil-black and silly-looking. But that never stopped me from drawing them anyway. Just as long as I could sit with a pencil and draw rockets, or robots with guitars, or kiwi birds made of squiggles, or little hearts on my arms, for a few minutes in class or in my room I would be happy.

I stopped drawing ages ago, at around the same time I stopped writing. I couldn't manage to find the right time or place to sit down and produce something that I loved. I was, to paraphrase whichever wise musician said it first, too "caught up in reality" to worry about doing anything imaginative.

Things have gotten harder over the last little while, and reality has gotten more difficult to deal with. I've been coaxed back into a happier state of mind by coming back to what's always made me so happy before- my imagination, constantly ticking over. What would happen if I jumped off there? What if the building was surrounded by killer robots? Could I live up there? What is a shopping center doing here? What IS a shopping center, really? Songs, poems, monsters, animals from the jungle, and my best friends all wandering around in my head, all day. Thoughts and ideas that would get me smacked or verbally abused if I shared them with anyone but a select few people.

I'm glad I have my imagination back for the moment. And I'm so glad that I've found the time to start drawing again.

I just thought I should explain the monsters.