Recently I’ve been feeling like I’ve failed myself in some ways. Most of all, feeling like this is not helpful. But I’m sorry, I just feel like this. No more self talking is going to lift me out of feeling this way.
What happened? You ask. Oh dear future fans, I just don’t know who you are, and I cannot see even a shadow of soul who would ever care about what I do here with all my heart and love. This shouldn’t matter, but it does matter, and I’m sorry again.
I’m sure you’ve felt this way before. It is a crushing feeling to think that I am not good at anything or better than anyone about anything. I will never achieve anything that will benefit the world in any way. Yet fortune has been good to me. I have a wonderful job in which I do what I like and from which I earn enough to enjoy lots of material I sometimes don’t even need. I have a healthy body that lets me sense and interact in this world and other people with incredible fidelity. Most of all, I have lots of people who love me dearly and who I love. And most of all, I should really love myself. I do, actually, but I still feel disappointed. I really shouldn’t, so again I’m sorry.
I wish more people know about my art works. But then again, I know I still have a lot of work to do in terms of producing good works. Also, what is my goal here? Would I still do it even if no one cares? Yes. I know from the very beginning, this is why I was born onto this earth to do. Yet why am I feeling unsatisfied? Ego? Some sense of success? I don’t know, so again I’m sorry.
Once something is a secret, you would want to talk about it with everyone and you go mad unless you let it out. I have such a secret and I decided to never tell anyone until I die. Hence it is very hard on me. I put it all over my art works but no one sees, which is great, because it is a way for me to tell without being judged or in trouble. I constantly deal with this mental issue, and I will continue to deal with it maybe…until I hit menopause? It really isn’t a big deal, but at times it could be very bothersome and cause insomnia, loss of apetite, mood swings and such. But the good side is that I get very creative and draw late into the night, causing insomnia. I should really let go of it, but I’m holding on to it so hard, so again I’m sorry.
With love comes fear. With light comes darkness. The sense of beauty is born out of the sense of ugliness. I live with an imperfect self and I love this imperfect self and I’m sad about this imperfect self and I’m excited about this imperfect self. I promise to myself, it will only get better.