2 years without words.

I haven't realised it's been 2 years. I love writing but I have this bad tendency to forget how good it feels to write. I do the same thing with my diary ( if it can be called a diary, it's more of a book I write in every few months or sometimes twice a year... I may be the only person whose diary lasts for 5 years ). I miss my blog, I miss expressing myself with something other than a few words on facebook here and there. I know that no one would probably read this, as I am not a famous blogger. Only 6 of my friends have added me here and due to the fact that I haven't written for a couple of years I'm quite sure this one will not be read. I just wanted to ask how some artists draw from their life and splurge into their art. I wonder if hardships make a difference in their ability to express. I feel like my mood fluctuations have no effect on my imagination, as I am sometimes most productive when bored, other when angry or nostalgic... or even on the happy-go-lucky days. I'm still trying to figure out the causes for these long periods of draught. This makes no sense, I am probably just blabbering, but sometimes blabbering leads the way to a little Alicey sort of door that hides a wonderland. I haven't been very poetic lately, as poetry sometimes restricts expression. I just want to say... I want to say things that mean nothing at all. I just want to see letters next to each other. Letters are fun. They are like tiny little drawings that make perfect sense at all times except when they deliberately don't. So... yeah.