(no subject)
The stuff I write about is really depressing sometimes. It’s good I think, but kind of exhausting. It’s always so heavy and while it seems somehow more artistic to me, more relevant, it’s just hard for me to do. I guess it’s easy for me to get really down as a result of that all the intense thought that goes into writing something that accurately portrays some of my feelings. I end up in a weird limbo. Like a purgatory where I concentrate really hard on expressing ideas and become lost in them.
That feeling can be really good when I write something exciting and happy. But when it’s serious and based in reality or on some kind of experience I have had, it becomes too much.
I’m finding myself more interested in art forms that are not so personal, or personal in a more abstract way. Like how a photo or a painting can mean something but not be as naked and vulnerable as words. I feel like I have some really cool antique that just makes me feel really awful, but it’s too pretty to throw away. I feel lame.
That feeling can be really good when I write something exciting and happy. But when it’s serious and based in reality or on some kind of experience I have had, it becomes too much.
I’m finding myself more interested in art forms that are not so personal, or personal in a more abstract way. Like how a photo or a painting can mean something but not be as naked and vulnerable as words. I feel like I have some really cool antique that just makes me feel really awful, but it’s too pretty to throw away. I feel lame.