My Art is Broken

My art is broken.

Some say that art is apart of you, like an arm or a leg, and if so mine is broken. I haven't been productive in any kind of art flow since...I can't remember. Last year there were a lot of things that made me feel a lot of intense emotions, which I turned into art. This year, the new 2015, I haven't made any art. I can't even write poetically like I could. There are no drawings or doodles on anything that I have on paper, it's just a dry well. Art isn't really something I have been focusing on intensely though either, but then again I've never had to focus on art...it always just...came to me.

I think maybe the problem is that I'm in a crossroads between being a kid and being an adult. For the most part the adult side is winning (unfortunately) and it's killing my art flow. Also, another common problem, is that there are many young adults creating art that is mind blowing and I can't do what they do so I don't do anything at all...not even trying. I find too since I took a break from school this semester that actual homework created a place for me to procrastinate and then create art. School was my base and art was my frame, kind of like a house, and that's what I lived in. Now without the base I can't build a frame. It bothers me to a degree that I can't create anything. I still love and enjoy color, but now so it's more of what other people can do rather than what I can do. Not sure how that makes me feel either.

It's not like I don't have a wave of emotions, they just aren't as intense as losing three best friends within a few months of each other. My emotions are mainly just being aggravated, bored, and lonely. Sometimes my depression comes in to play and I think about suicide but eventually put it back in the box that it hides in in the dark places of my mind. This is the way that it is with life I guess...you go to work and do this continuous cycle forever until you're dead. Sometimes I literally don't even get the point of living. Really though, not saying suicide is the ideal thing, but when I think about life and how the government is and how people are I just don't know why I'm here. One person in amidst millions and only one percent know my name by the time I'm dead. There's just this vicious cycle of surviving with all these rules about what's right and wrong. We literally have nothing to compare ourselves to, just kind of winging it here. Kind of like my parents with me during childhood. Their first and only child and they used to punish me for small petty things that didn't even matter. What they thought was right sometimes turned out to be wrong and the entire time they were being judged for everything hoping that I just turned out to be a decent human being.

Update?

It's been about six months since I last made a update. So here's some of the things that's been going on with me:

1. Quit school for the semester
2. Almost got fired because I got really fucking sick
3. Just got over having a kidney and bladder infection
4. Started a new journey in my life in February with a cute red head named John
5. John and I have been dating for about five months.
6. People at work have gotten fired or quit, and there was a time where almost all of my friends were quitting or transferring.
7. I moved out of my parents house and in with my friend/old enemy and that lasted about two months.
8. I've been traveling to another state almost every weekend and getting to experience and see new things.
9. For the first time in three years I got to see fireworks for the Forth of July
10. I almost moved in with my boyfriend a month ago, but he got news he was going to have other things in the future that would cause him to leave.

A lot of things have changed, and I got to see what it felt to be free and have my own place to pay for and take care of. I loved being independent but I think everything happens for a reason. If I would have still been in mobile home I was at I probably would have had far worse symptoms and no one to take care of me. The house I was staying in was hot and had an ac unit mean to cool a bedroom instead of a house. My roommate didn't give me any kind of personal space and her daughter, which is two and I don't mind, would vandalize my stuff or take things from my room when I was gone. Needless to say the situation was getting out of hand and I needed to do what was best for myself, so I left.

The story of John and I is rather simple. We have known each other for quite some time as we grew up around each other as kids. The church I went to had kids my age and I grew up with them and John was a first cousin of my best friend. During the holidays this past year his family planned things and he made his own plans and visited his cousins. The first visit was around Thanksgiving, and then around Christmas, and then by New Years and Super Bowl time we knew we wanted to be seeing more of each other. He got an apartment of his own so we could avoid sneaking in and getting caught by parents, and I began helping him make his apartment feel more like home. We spent a lot of time together when we got the chance and Valentines Day we made it official that we were dating. Since then we have been nearly inseparable. 

Things have been far from perfect, but some of the little moments make me so happy. Right now I don't know whats going to happen for the rest of this year other than working and being at home. My goals are to go back to school and learn something important and life changing, but my job schedule has me working almost as much as full time employees. I'd also like to move back out, but living alone and all doesn't seem the best idea with the way things cost now. The struggle is real. Not really, but for myself it is.