Danny Glover was right…

I’m getting too old for this shit…

After a few weeks of interacting on Threads, I’ve not only come to the realization I am so far away from the art community that I can’t even fucking see it, but I’m also starting to show the early signs of bitterness. When I’m typing out messages, I feel these ancestral hints of my grandfather poking through, this delusional voice that suggests I’m not only much more ignorant and uninformed than I believe myself to be, but that I have this respect that I sure as shit have never earned. I’ve long carried the fear of falling into the same trap as him and attempting to keep up with younger generation has shown me just how close to that trap I really am.

Needless to say, I had a nice crash this evening that left me sitting there sobbing, good choking huffs that always seem to accompany any sort of break-through—though not before that deep seated desire to die rears its ugly head. This wasn’t a great one. It wasn’t my worst by far, but it was still shockingly painful. I’m thankful to have had Emi breathing softly on my chest as I was going through it to at least give me something physical to hold onto to help me try to find ground again.

I don’t know if there ever was a time when I was cut out to put myself out there, but I’m afraid that time has long since passed. What’s important, what I need to focus on, is that I absolutely do not have to be somebody. My life doesn’t have to matter. I just need to make some art and then peace out while trying to do as little damage to myself and others as possible.