beautiful
why is it that when i finally seem to be adjusting again to life here in this beautiful antique place that i find something to despise and dwell upon. my hair is getting long, my stomach flat, and my nails short and covered in ink and paint. i havent been wanting to eat and i keep beating myself up about my painting and drawing abilities. I am working so hard and spend my life here sitting and working on my art, but i just feel so distressed and frustrated. i am in this place where i bounce back and forth between sticking to technique and skill and my own interests, passions and creative process. I have so much inside, so many ideas and feelings that i want to get across on the canvas or the pleziglass or a pices of fabriano paper, but somehow i always end up staring blankly into space afraid i might do something wrong, or disappoint my professor. one of my teachers has taken an interest in my work, offering extra help and criticism, which is awesome i guess, cuz it is better to be noticed than not noticed at all, i just need to relax and stop acting like a obsessive nervous little fuck. anyways, i am happy, i am getting skinnier and i feel better, healthier...so yeah