I’ve been sleeping too much lately. Spending too much time in dream land and not enough time in reality. The sun seems too bright even though the days are grey. Things feel kind of dull and numb, and I miss my bicycle a lot. I wish I had a plan.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to help the world with art. I believe that it can heal but then I get so scared in the face of a giant blank canvas. Despite everything, there is a part of me that actively avoids creativity, because when it comes out of me it is dark, and morbid and sometimes frightening. And I am afraid that it appears to be melodramatic, self-absorbed, cliché. So I try to hold it in my guts. What a waste of energy, psychic drain, keeping me in my bed twisting around the sheets and dreaming strange things.
I think a tattoo will help. I got nothin’.