Stripped to the Bone

I’ve realised that my creativity stems from sadness, loneliness and hopelessness. With everything I’ve been through in my life, and no one to confide in, no hand to walk me through the dark tunnels in my head, no tour guide to show me how to navigate my desires… I’ve turned to artistic expression to cope. Cameras, sharpies, pencils, pens, scripts, sculptures, those were my saviours. The only way to escape reality, to stop over thinking my pain, was to hide in plain sight. It’s always what is right in front of you that escapes you. Your brain is too busy focusing on what is coming up, what is next, what is approaching you… to realise that you’ve completely one upped it’s wrinkly ass. Hanging out with your daddy issues, asexual childhood, fallback kid cynicism, and high fiving your demons into stanzas, I’m a pro. Give me sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, give me love and laughter, what do I do with that? When I’m happy It’s an overwhelming surge of energy that runs through me, a near physical experience, that I need to share more physically. It’s harder for me to sit and turn my thoughts into something more. When I’m happy the details are irrelevant, the fine details that I notice in life and art, the things people overlook, they are lost to me. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows are fabulous, but they are stifling my creativity. I am not going to reject happiness, I just need to find a way to draw from it, and to not let it consume the very thing I love most about myself. Happiness, I embrace you, but don’t fuck with me, I have great heights to climb and I won’t be held back, not even by you. I’m going to drill in you and use you for fuel. >:3 Get ready.

(Source: skellevision)