Department of Oxygenation and Malodorous Phylotration

I am nearing the end of a project, the longest and most elaborate body of work I've ever attempted. Dumpia is a comic and a story about garbage. Its been a seed in my mind for many years and now that I am within grasp of seeing it fulfilled, as an autonomous object, I am filled with doubt. 

I look back at the pencils (now traced, watercolored and lined over with pen) and think they look much better than the finalized pages: more lively, organic and tactile.

I wonder who, if anyone, will read it when its done. Will they get it? Like it? Be moved by it? Will they buy less plastic? How do I know I am communicating my desired message? The mystery of semiotics can be frustrating when trying to make meaning through fictionalized narrative and drawing. 

Where does confidence come from? Why are some people born with it and some battle everyday for just a glimmer of it? I wish it were available as a 6-pack (in aluminum, of course, highly recyclable) so I could have one in the morning to help me get out of bed and another in the evening when uncertainty arrives with the darkening sky.

Doubt is not a warm bedfellow, even as I try to shake it, it grips me ever more tightly. But it is not going to stop me (just slow me down and distract me). The end is near! I can see the light! 

Dumpia is coming.