(no subject)
She's scrounging around for unfathomable theories and believing misinterpreted truths and living in this alluring dreamworld that even she knows will never fucking suffice.
Jessica Anne Marie Lorincz, wake the fuck up.
She searches and she searches for these limitless opportunities and fails time and time again flat on her fucking face and you'd think she would learn. Hah! You pitiful fool. You afflicted nitwit. You scurvy nincompoop (scurvy nincompoop.. I like that.. I think I'll make myself a shirt..). You naive little child (maybe I should make a shirt with NAIVE in big letters.. that'll better suit me eh?)
You think I'd learn by now. For christ's sake I save my rejection letters. All of 'em. They're hanging in my studio. They used to be my fuel. They used to push me to strive towards my goals. I'm sick of striving. I'm ill.. the thought makes me want to vomit in my mouth.
Despite the warnings, I still listen to my mother. I recall all the misconceptions and unwanted insults and despite the warnings, I let it all get to me. Mothers are supposed to tell you the truth, wake you up, set you straight. So I sit there and take insult after insult in.. and fully absorb it to it's fullest effect.. and expect to be awoken from this happy little dreamworld full of sunshine and bunnies and warm hues.. Yeah, fuck you I know I'm in a dreamworld you jackass. I'm in a fucking dreamworld because the past 5 years since my grandfather's died I've been looking for complete happiness.. that's been my one goal.. and just when it's within my reach someone fucking snatches it away from me and I fall flat on my face.. again.. and again.. and again. I get it, it's not healthy. I know that. I'm not the dumb bitch people perceive me as. My IQ was once a 136.
All my mom keeps bringing up is how I never applied myself in high school. Well mom.. if only you fucking knew how many nights I was up til 4am painting when I needed to wake up for school at 6am. "But Jessica, that's not applying yourself." What the fuck do you mean that's not applying myself? Art.. was my life. So after a while of hearing that over.. and over again.. you start to believe it.
My grandmother screamed at me for an hour 2 nights ago how I'm becoming a waste of talent.. and to do something about it. She tried motivating me..
At least she finally realized and fucking tried.. I'll give her that much.
My mom never even came to my first gallery exhibit.
Why do I expect her to start motivating me to work again?
Silly Jess, inspiration's for successors.
I went to the Brooklyn Museum to see my painting.. by myself.
My mom was too tired.
I'm tired.
I'm tired.
Stop feeling guilty. I hate when people are put down by me.
I hate letting people down.
I miss being that person people looked up to.
Jessica Anne Marie Lorincz, wake the fuck up.
She searches and she searches for these limitless opportunities and fails time and time again flat on her fucking face and you'd think she would learn. Hah! You pitiful fool. You afflicted nitwit. You scurvy nincompoop (scurvy nincompoop.. I like that.. I think I'll make myself a shirt..). You naive little child (maybe I should make a shirt with NAIVE in big letters.. that'll better suit me eh?)
You think I'd learn by now. For christ's sake I save my rejection letters. All of 'em. They're hanging in my studio. They used to be my fuel. They used to push me to strive towards my goals. I'm sick of striving. I'm ill.. the thought makes me want to vomit in my mouth.
Despite the warnings, I still listen to my mother. I recall all the misconceptions and unwanted insults and despite the warnings, I let it all get to me. Mothers are supposed to tell you the truth, wake you up, set you straight. So I sit there and take insult after insult in.. and fully absorb it to it's fullest effect.. and expect to be awoken from this happy little dreamworld full of sunshine and bunnies and warm hues.. Yeah, fuck you I know I'm in a dreamworld you jackass. I'm in a fucking dreamworld because the past 5 years since my grandfather's died I've been looking for complete happiness.. that's been my one goal.. and just when it's within my reach someone fucking snatches it away from me and I fall flat on my face.. again.. and again.. and again. I get it, it's not healthy. I know that. I'm not the dumb bitch people perceive me as. My IQ was once a 136.
All my mom keeps bringing up is how I never applied myself in high school. Well mom.. if only you fucking knew how many nights I was up til 4am painting when I needed to wake up for school at 6am. "But Jessica, that's not applying yourself." What the fuck do you mean that's not applying myself? Art.. was my life. So after a while of hearing that over.. and over again.. you start to believe it.
My grandmother screamed at me for an hour 2 nights ago how I'm becoming a waste of talent.. and to do something about it. She tried motivating me..
At least she finally realized and fucking tried.. I'll give her that much.
My mom never even came to my first gallery exhibit.
Why do I expect her to start motivating me to work again?
Silly Jess, inspiration's for successors.
I went to the Brooklyn Museum to see my painting.. by myself.
My mom was too tired.
I'm tired.
I'm tired.
Stop feeling guilty. I hate when people are put down by me.
I hate letting people down.
I miss being that person people looked up to.