Artfully wanking

I say this in relation to my own creative endeavors, for I think their sum equates to nothing more than a mere stroke of the ego. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy completing a project, yet dissatisfaction slowly creeps in following its consummation. Nothing ever feels as fresh and strong once it leaves my mindscape. Maybe this can all be attributed to my lack of talent. Granted, that is partial reason for concern,  but I think it has more to do with trying to encapsulate the essence and force of spontaneity. Upon the initial realization in the mind, it loses its intensity by way of constraints, which, ultimately, renders what was originally thought of as fake and contrived. And to be honest, this could very well be one of those instances. That being said, these efforts are not in vain, for they still serve a purpose. It just so happens I’m unable to categorize them. I’ve seemed to have fallen short of a climax, lest even a build up to such an event. At least I know where I started, it’s just finding the right place to end.