How fucking cliche it is.

A poor tortured soul, a sensitive Nick Drake kind of figure. A Van Gogh. I'm definitely among some great names. But I hate that it's so predictable. Such a pathetic image. I'm sure you can smell the contempt I have for myself here.  
I'm not even sure I want to be an artist anymore, I want to do something that lifts me up. I'm not sure painting does that. Not really sure anything does that.

I sap my time away with meaningless shit on my phone because reality is too painful. Anyone else do this? I'm sure they do. I feel like I have truly fucked my life up. Fucked myself up. 

I want to give up. Maybe that means die, or just stop trying. Every day is a miserable struggle just to \*be\*. Everything seems to difficult.

A few days ago I felt fantastic - bright, energetic, full of positivity for me and my work. But those days are not frequent. And I seem to fall harder and faster afterwards.

I lot of people need to hear from me at the moment. I have a lot of balls in the air, and I'm watching all of them slowly drop towards the ground, with total indifference. 

Not really sure what the point of writing this is, but it's nice to know that anyone reading this will on some level understand.

Peace and love to you all.

\-B