Just so you know I haven't been sitting in front of my laptop wishing I could be better. Attachment is getting more and more frustrating; I find myself taking the long route to the loo every hour. When I get home (which has been taking me about 1 and half hours these 2 days because of the horrible traffic caused by the whole hoo-haa about the fugitive,) I start to paint. I'm working hard on my painting which seems to be going nowhere. I don't feel alive, as if there are no feelings to tell. It just suddenly becomes ironic that art has turned into my safety net instead of physics stuff.

'You must get better grades so you can get a scholarship and work at your father's place. You'd have stability...' my mother said in the kitchen. She was going on and on about how I need to acheive what they want. No, I have yet to tell her, to convey the news that I never improved or got better. I don't know what I want. I want to become what they want me to be, but I also want to be what I was supposed to be. I'm ambivalent.

I'm at this point where I need to decide where to go. I am going to be 19. If I live to forget my own name I would live for another 60 years. I don't want to be 30 and still be ME. I can choose stability and my mother's dream, or I can choose trecherous waters that may get me to nowhere, but if I suceed I would live gloriously, and make my parents face that I can be GOOD at other things.

Oh my god I just don't want to think. I want to sleep, sleep until everything fixes itself.

Labels: art, blah, depressing, dreams