I can’t deny the desire to become something different than I am, a disquiet discontent with the person that I am. I think it is a consequence of my life, this lonely, misdirected path doesn’t seem like the road I should be on. It is incongruent with that of my elders. Many times in my history have I contemplated changing. This time seems different though. I’ve burned through social circles and exited on the other side without company. I’ve pushed the boulder to the top of the mountain, only to see it fall again. I’ve dedicated myself to an artistic path, and still don’t have artistic respect or a following or a market. I have a recognizable brand, but one that is relatively worthless, especially in an economy that cannot afford to support art.
changeling
These days, it is my blessing and curse. It gives me a bit of an escape from the darkening days, but it pushes me further from common human circles.
I am just tired of trying to please everyone else, and leaving nothing for myself. I no longer know what happiness is. I try to envision a personal concept of happy, and feel sadness, as if all of my former concepts are now attached to the deep soreness, dreams bloodied and bruised and left to die. Our concepts of happy remain that pure and glowing so long as they are not tested. Once the power of a happy place or state or person has been diminished, he/she/it no longer powers the same light as it did before.