i want to go back to when life was just about discovering the next part of myself…it’s seems within the growth, i have lost the core of my being. the more i push myself to give the aspects of me that i find my identity in, the more i feel stagnant. day to day, life doesn’t seem as much as a dream as it used to, and there must be something i can do to fix it. i never knew it was possible to overwork my passions, yet here i am. fighting for the validation of other successful artists.
i’m forgetting a key ingredient in this recipe though…
art was never about validation, it’s about putting ME into an image, into graphite and ink on paper, into paint, into color. every hair on my head and every pore in my skin. my own emotion and my connection to myself and everyone else just happens to be there. art is created in the rawest form when it’s coming from my soul without distraction, worry, or a clouded judgment i put on myself. i need to rediscover what it’s like to be home inside my creativity. i miss it more than i could ever try to explain in words. there is nothing more beautiful about art that it’s divine mistakes that defy that definition itself. mistake after mistake until it resides in perfection. no more formats, correctly combined colors, extra thoughts about “did i word this right” or “is this the right stroke of paint.” how will i ever truly inspire without letting my incomparable spiderweb of a mind untangle itself before those who are willing to admire it?

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