Freeze-dried Artist

I thought myself an artist once or twice throughout my life. I love to sing (only a few have witnessed), I love to dance (I can't remember the last time I really danced) I loved to draw, paint and write (I can't rememer the last time I did any of those things). I described myself the other day as a freeze-dried artist. It's there, but It just can't break free.
My fathers death really changed me. I always had a smile on my face, my mind was full of optimism and wonder. I was full with the belief of what could be.
When I was little I was a bit shy. While growing up, that changed little by little.
I became a strong woman who had confidence in herself. I wasn't afraid of change and wasn't afraid new things to come. I was free-spirited and wild and loved myself.
Those of you who really knew me growing up, probably knew what I was into.
I knew every zodiac sign and which characteristics were tied to it. I could call your sign without even knowing your birthday, but by just getting to know you.
I was into palm reading and was getting pretty good at it. I remember reading my algebra teacher's palm one day and she was pretty amazed if I say so myself.
I was into the healing power of stones. I knew many names and what each stood for. Now I only remember a few. Malachite aids insomia, keep it in your bedroom and Tiger's eye helps you bring forth courage.
I was really into moon baths. I loved climbing up on the roof of my dad's van and just laying there watching the moon and absorbing the good energy around.
Like I said, it's in there somewhere, but for some reason, I feel like something is holding me down. Literally holding my arms down to my thighs, kinda like my picture. I can't move, I can't react, I can't break free from whatever has a hold of me.
I want to just run into a field and yell as loud as I can, I want to surround myself with people that are considered "artsy" so I can soak some "artsy" back in me.
Jeeze, this got pretty long, I'll shut up now