Artists

It is always the most important work that inflicts the most stress.

There has been a year and a half of cyber bullying of me by people I once looked up to and it’s taken its toll on me.

I feel marked as a leper and damaged and separate, never a chance to rejoin humanity or feel okay inside ever again. I feel profoundly alone no matter who is around. I can’t feel or accept any love offered to me. I am standing behind a glass wall with no door, with everyone else on the other side.

I am going through the motions, for everything. For anything. I look in the mirror in the morning and put on my makeup but feel such a strong urge to take an exacto knife and carve instead.

Just pretending to be normal on the outside.

I put on my makeup so I look normal. I do art so I seem normal.

I respond in the ways I have to, to appear normal. Going through the motions.

People tell me, it must be such a joyful thing to make your art. I smile and say “yes.”

The whole time I am creating I am telling myself how stupid and worthless I am and have always been and my existence is an affront to the universe.

The daydream that brings me happiness these days is being told by a doctor I have only a few months to live.

Some people dream of winning the lottery or going on a vacation or achieving something or buying something.

I guess I am dropping the mask here and exposing the real me. People get angry when I do that and it never ends well for me but lately I am tired of wearing the mask of normality.