Why can’t I write?!
I cannot think. It’s like I’m constipated. In the brains. Brainstipation.
This enrages me. I’ve been writing since I could talk. They actually gave me the journal so I’d stfu. No joke.
So I know how to fucking write!
….ok. Then that’s not the real problem then is it hmm…
Now that ya mention it, I haven’t been able to create at all lately. Not for fun. Not on a personal level.
I’ve wanted to. I even have a bunch of things I know I wanna make and I’m excited to make them except…I don’t.
Wtf why not?!
Well…I did challenge myself to be honest…
Like all the way honest and there’s just nothing more honest than art.
If I’m honest there it’s like posting a nude, ok. It’s worse.
And I’ve always been wrong. My whole life everything about me I just…breathed.
So being me isn’t something I like to do. Or talk about.
But lately if I feel like I’m supposed to do something, I have to do it. Have to. If I fight it’s just misery for me anyway. I think maybe I’m just fighting now.
I made the featured image for this post in a design app. It’s a start.