I haven't been drawing lately... barely picked up my pencil. I did try to draw the salvia dimension I experienced a couple of weeks ago, but it pretty much sucks.

Where has my motivation gone? I've gone through certain fucked up events recently that should by all rights be giving me serious amounts of creativity and desire for outlet of different emotions. But they aren't. I always kind of thought that emotional distress and hopelessness was like a fuel for my art, but for some reason it's not like that anymore. I was doing more when I was happier.

Well.. I've been making things, but mostly because I need money and I want to sell them. I've had some ideas for drawings.... but haven't actively started any. Maybe it's because I've been spending little time at home, always trying to escape my self somehow, or try to force myself into this other life that I really don't fit into, because I can't face what ever the fuck it is that's inside me. Leaving this building is no escape. There is none.

I was going to say that it makes me feel like drawing really isn't what I'm supposed to do, or my strongest point, like I've always been afraid of. I always wished I could be as good as all the artists I admired, be the best and show the world exactly what I have in my head. But now I'm thinking maybe that's bullshit and I just need to accept that I cannot escape this and maybe if I stopped running and picked up my pencil and ACTUALLY worked on expressing what is inside of me... then I'd be happier. Happier with my work too.

But I am so scared of drawing sometimes. I think about it and my stomach churns. The only reason I can think of why is probably because I am so fucking scared to face what I've been through and what will happen when I put that into my work. Scared that I'll have to think about what happened, which I've been trying my hardest not to (and usually failing). Scared to let it go and move on. Most of the time I don't even want to forget, I want to hold onto it forever because if I let it go, I'll really have nothing left of someone who meant an indescribable amount to me. But I know that forgetting is all I can do, because I'm too weak and too insane to even remain their friend. And too selfish to ever stop wanting what I can never have.

And even though I've been spending less time at home, things between my mum and I keep getting more tense. She's threatening to kick me out. So, I guess I'd better try to do as much drawing as possible before everything really does get thrown into madness.

This turned into introspective blegh. I just thought somehow it was appropriate.. to add some kinda narrative to my lack of art...