I feel the disconnect in my work. The perfect in every stroke. The need for it to look good. The lack of just letting good. There is this need for it be spot on, for it to say exactly what I want, for it to say how it feels. I don’t like it… I have grown to dislike it all. A lot of pretty faces and weird detours. A lot of that’s nice, and oh that pretty. I feel a disconnect and I don’t like it.
I really just don’t want it, my work at this point has defined me and I don’t want it. It’s like this level of pretension stating this and the people who read it may see it as such. Who gives a fuck, I hate my shit and I need to say it somewhere. I fucking hate how beautiful she is, how pretty she is, how nice a job I did. There is nothing being gained, the point to why it was created is lost, I’m lost. I have no job, no home, no one, and I can’t get that through the pretty faces I draw when I’m depressed. The hours invested on some portrait I would just as soon throw away than to really cherish. I don’t want my shit to be this anymore.
All at once, I want to give up, and keep going. I want it to end and start over. I want mess, I want it to be wrong, I want all my shit to be wrong, ugly. I want people to criticize and hate my shit. I want them to see it and tell them selves that I just be going through something because that shit is shit. I’m hurt because I’m letting myself down by not letting myself down. I draw and I know it’s going to be pretty, it’s going to be nice because it always is and I fucking hate it. Just, no more man. Whatever, just not anymore.