Somewhere around the end of junior/beginning of senior year of high school, my art was the best it's ever been*. And, I sometimes fear, the best it will ever be. That was before my hands got so shaky, before everything got so twitchy. Back when I had millions and millions of stories teeming forth in a jumbled mess from my brain, and it was delightful to just sit and sort them out. Before I lost patience with the whole artistic process. When I wasn't afraid to ink and color a picture with markers, pencils, gel pens, anything I could find because I instinctively knew what would fit with the image.
Now I need to put them on the shelf and finish cleaning and organizing the Batcave.
*This is my opinion. My work was not technically perfect in any way, but it was attractive and it was consistant - possibly the only time in my life that I was able to draw someone looking the same way twice.