Creative Block

It's the fifth time I've started drawing the same panel. It's the first panel of a new comic book, but something is wrong. The same pattern is repeated as the other times. I start, I move forward, and I get to a point where everything loses its meaning. I play with the sizes of things. The distribution, the stroke, the textures, the colors... It's trial and error. The next day, when I see it, it's empty. I'm starting over.

I don't like anything I draw. I've developed a phobia of drawing certain things or in a certain way. I can't draw something pretty anymore. I'm bored of trying to make a face look like a person, and I don't even consider taking a minute to sketch a well-constructed perspective. Drawing for me is no longer useful if it is to represent something that exists.

I've asked people close to me and posted it on social media in different ways. I like it, but I know there's a lie. Behind those forms, that character, there is nothing. It's a trick. I'm doing for the sake of doing. To finish. For hanging it up. That comic is a lie. But myself. Yes, I know how to draw. So what? Does that mean anything? Does that justify a minute of my time? Does it justify a minute of the reader's time?

I guess I'm in a creative crisis.