Chapter: A Fit Destruction

I hate the feeling of containment as an artist. What kind of crap is that. Ugh. Sometimes I feel like exploding and just running outside with a paint can and throwing it on everything in sight. I like to create and I enjoy destroying. Its a weird mix, but thats life really. We live and create our lives through the experiences we have and we most of the time destroy it with the choices we make. Naturally. May seem like a leap of an assertion, but....this is my blog. I can say whatever I want.
So yeah, feeling pressured and just so recluse have my mind doing somersaults. It's freaking making me nauseous. All the things like is mixed with. It's such a concoction of sweet and sour that I am forever in a state of awkward. I never know what to do, what to expect, how to react or how to go about it. I just analyze and observe, almost in awe of what this world is full of. (Insert your own idea of what world is made up of here.) It's just weird. But it can be beautiful. On really rare occasions. Under a certain lighting. On a foggy day. Around 3am.

Chapter: Resentment

Forget what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. If it doesn’t kill you it leaves you crippled, incapable of functioning the way you once did. My mind is a mess, it’s like it’s infected with something. Critters crawling around in my brain, I itch at the sight of your face, and violently react to the sound of your voice. The anger that has consumed me serves as my muse. I create pieces simply because they allow me to bring to life that which I cannot do in reality. Connect the dots. Do you thrive on the deceit you feed to my soul? Do you prosper with my anguish, is this some sort of masochism? I can’t stand people telling me what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. No, what doesn’t kill you leaves you for dead.