Work sucks…

I know.

She left me roses by the stairs,

she made them out of pubic hairs…

Any who…

I have got to get out of working for other people and make money on some art. I’m afraid that I’m going to become some bitter, toxic old man, broken by life and mad at everyone else experiencing some success. I can feel it building and it scares me.

On a similar note, all the progress I’ve been making on my planner of ideas this year has given me this weird new sense of fomo. Have I mentioned the book before? I can’t remember. In case I haven’t, the basic concept has been to write down a new idea every day. By and large, I’ve been fairly diligent with it, and I have generated a fairly large number of ideas. The issue that I’m starting to have is realizing how many more of these I could have seen created if I’d just gotten my shit together sooner. I’m seeing how fleeting an limited time is and how relatively little of it I have left to see any of these ideas come to fruition. It saddens me, but also makes going to work more and more difficult. If I let it, it could easily consume even more of my time than it already has.

I do wish I’d done a better job of using my time when I was younger, but I can’t really change that now. All I can do is use my time to the best of my ability.

As for art, I know it’s something I wanted/ something I want, but maybe I need to learn to want it more than I already do. Maybe I need to truly let it become a burning obsession such that I ultimately can’t stress out about work or anything else for that matter. Maybe I need to push myself to let art consume me such that all that matters is art and Emi.

Maybe I’m just lying to myself.

Dicks for listening!