I spent hours sketching today, something I haven’t done in ages. My hands were clumsy at first, and the pencil felt foreign between my fingers, but eventually, the lines began to flow. It was liberating to lose myself in the process, forgetting about time and perfection. As I worked, I realized how much I’ve missed creating for the sake of creating—not for an audience, not for validation, just for me. I found an old sketchbook buried in a drawer, its pages half-filled with abandoned ideas. Flipping through it was like stepping into a time capsule, revisiting moments when I saw the world differently. Today reminded me of the joy that comes with making something imperfectly beautiful. I’ve promised myself to make more time for this—time to let go, experiment, and connect with the part of me that simply loves to imagine.