I haven’t a thing to say, I have no pure thoughts of any kind. Why can’t I simplify my mind and complete a thought other than despair and pain? I cannot create anything when all I want to do is destroy myself. I thought I had a core of creation, and uncontrollable urge to bring new worlds into ours, it seems I just have a different way of seeing the wretched things that are already here, already discovered and finished.
I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I am or what I am mean to do, or be.
I am a writer, I am a sculptor, a photographer, I fully express the world’s thoughts.
I have never written a damn thing, I am the only appreciator and understanding soul of my sculpture, my photography is repetitive and consists of emptiness re-enacted, I have no thoughts the world cares about, or anyone for that matter.
I am a writer, I am a sculptor, a photographer, I fully express the world’s thoughts.
I have never written a damn thing, I am the only appreciator and understanding soul of my sculpture, my photography is repetitive and consists of emptiness re-enacted, I have no thoughts the world cares about, or anyone for that matter.
Do we each have a calling? What does that really mean anyways? It’s like saying fate, or destiny, solid un-deniable words like, soulmate or obsession; it’s too much to say. You don’t really know anything for sure until it happens. Some grand painter lost deep within the exterior of some simple server of ales in a nowhere bar somewhere with no knowledge of his inherent talents and passions within because he has no interest in art, never gave it a try. If I am to believe I am meant to be anything, I have to believe we are all living a misguided mess of a life and wasting ourselves. Maybe that is the only key, everything must be tried at least once to see if it can be done better than anyone else in history, by you and with no effort on your part at all, as it truly come that naturally.
Well, this seems more and more bullshit with increased thought. One must just try anything I suppose, just stick with it long enough and you will at the least be good at it eventually, then that’s worth something, sort of. Now we are back in the realities of just picking the one that makes the most money. There is always this reality of structure, socially and economically that just creates an existence of mere existence.
I feel I am on another anti 9-5, rat race rut lifestyle rant again.
It just leaves such a void; I cannot be the only one who sees this. It’s not a matter of intelligence, or ignorant bliss, there is no philosophy work involved here, I assure you. If anyone who is capable of loving or even dreaming is out there, I am sure they have some emotions as mine, some need to really do something and be something other than the culturally created citizen.
I have an altered view of course. I am overwhelmed with emotion, passionately and obsessively driven in paranoid, devastating realizations and constant struggled need to break free and be. I honestly hope there are few others on my level or more.
In closing…
