The first draft of any personal satement I write (the one before I have re-written it about fifteen times) always has a tendency to become slightly too personal. So it was only expected now, with a ridiculous lack of sleep and the hysterical amount of work I have to do over the next nine days banging me in the forehead; something like this.
"I have doubted art, which everyone does at some point. I have also gone through a stage of giving up on art. But I have come back, and I have realized that the relationship between me and my artwork is like a marriage. I have to work for it, and it is tough, and it will probably only get tougher. But through sickness and in health, until death tears us apart; this is what I live for. This is what I love."
Time to go to bed. And no need to worry; I had a very good laugh and deleted this part completely.