im sorry this is long. its aggrivating.
I just woke up from sleeping and was laying in bed
and looked at my wall
and realized how frustrated i am with my muse.
maybe it died.
I've recently lost my love for art.
Nothing is original anymore.
not even my own.
i started a painting the size of my wall on a bedsheet,
and i cant even muster up the courage to finish it.
its just sitting there
half done
hanging on my wall.
and all i want to do is rip it apart.
Everything is so unappreciated.
If i actually paint something amazing
only a handfull of people actually understand it,
or like it.
and if they dont, they wont tell me.
I hate showing anybody anything i do,
I dont even like keeping it.
and if i give it away and see it later- i want it back so i can throw it away.
I just dont put my heart into it anymore like i used to,
i want to and i try.
but i dont think its just something i can force myself to do,
then i end up hating it more.
I used to loooove taking pictures,
photographing people.
im not even sure if thats something i enjoy anymore.
its so common now that most of the stuff that people actually work at getting perfect,
without using photoshop,
without having a tight ass camera,
goes unnoticed.
no one is grateful.
I know art is about expressing yourself,
doing it for yourself.
but i just cant express myself anymore.
I have like 7 notebooks full of writings from the past 3 years.
now.. i cant write anything.
and when i read/look at anyone else's self-expression.
i get jealous (if it's good).
maybe its just something im not suppose to do anymore?
maybe im just too concerned with other things in life to appreciate it myself.
life is about speed
get it done.
fast.
whatever it is,
make it fast.
and people are so busy with keeping themselves busy
so busy with concerning themselves with other peoples lives,
and fighting,
and wasting time.
it just gets lost somewhere.
i dont know.
im rambling,
maybe i should be painting instead?
i'm pretty sure the beauty in most people is dead
and im sick of wasting time.
and looked at my wall
and realized how frustrated i am with my muse.
maybe it died.
I've recently lost my love for art.
Nothing is original anymore.
not even my own.
i started a painting the size of my wall on a bedsheet,
and i cant even muster up the courage to finish it.
its just sitting there
half done
hanging on my wall.
and all i want to do is rip it apart.
Everything is so unappreciated.
If i actually paint something amazing
only a handfull of people actually understand it,
or like it.
and if they dont, they wont tell me.
I hate showing anybody anything i do,
I dont even like keeping it.
and if i give it away and see it later- i want it back so i can throw it away.
I just dont put my heart into it anymore like i used to,
i want to and i try.
but i dont think its just something i can force myself to do,
then i end up hating it more.
I used to loooove taking pictures,
photographing people.
im not even sure if thats something i enjoy anymore.
its so common now that most of the stuff that people actually work at getting perfect,
without using photoshop,
without having a tight ass camera,
goes unnoticed.
no one is grateful.
I know art is about expressing yourself,
doing it for yourself.
but i just cant express myself anymore.
I have like 7 notebooks full of writings from the past 3 years.
now.. i cant write anything.
and when i read/look at anyone else's self-expression.
i get jealous (if it's good).
maybe its just something im not suppose to do anymore?
maybe im just too concerned with other things in life to appreciate it myself.
life is about speed
get it done.
fast.
whatever it is,
make it fast.
and people are so busy with keeping themselves busy
so busy with concerning themselves with other peoples lives,
and fighting,
and wasting time.
it just gets lost somewhere.
i dont know.
im rambling,
maybe i should be painting instead?
i'm pretty sure the beauty in most people is dead
and im sick of wasting time.