You must know, of course, that if I do not blog here I would write in my DeviantArt journal which you are most welcome to read. When the grey skies demands its presence in my world, then I would write in my livejournal which you would have no opportunity to investigate.

I cannot believe it is already Sunday. Would it upset you if I told you I cannot endure my itp and would rather spend two months with no money? I feel so trapped. Trapped with no escape. I cannot live like this. If you knew me, you would know how hard this is for me. I cannot commit to anything. I cannot be called upon whenever anyone feels like it. I cannot be confined within the four walls and forced to type meaningless shit into the computer. I resent my fucking 'job'. I wish time would pass swiftly so that when I wake up from this sleep, the two turnings of the moon would be over. A living nightmare, that is what working, is like. How could anyone endure such a cruel punishment, how could anyone afford to waste their hours doing the things they dislike as if time meant so little to them?

I need freedom. I need room to breathe. I cannot live like this. Tomorrow would be Monday. I do not think I can take it.

Please god, please let this is over. 2 months cannot feel like forever.

It has made me realise that I would not work for anyone but myself. To realise that I probably wasted 2 years of my life doing something that I know would not benefit me in the future is breaking my spirit. What do I want to do? Why not this? Why did I choose this? But no doubt doing this could possibly be the best thing I have ever done to my life because I have met many people whom I have learn to care for.

I know what I do not want to do. I do not know what I want to do. I have begun to question myself, my childhood ambitions, pondered my personality. Can you blame me for chasing something that would put my misery, unhappiness, and my overwhelming emotions into great use? Like art, like writing, like a contrast to engineering? I am an artist; I am not a man of science. My parents cannot keep denying what my soul has been drawn towards. They have tried to stop me, ignored my work, tried to change me into something I wasn't. I am afraid to tell them that I do not want what they want. What I want is dangerous. What I want will not secure my future; it will not allow room for children because I may not afford it. I cannot stay in one place; I cannot live a programmed life. I need to move from place to place. My soul wonders off, my mind travels. Will they understand? Does anyone understand how this affects me, why I need to escape so often? Why I need to paint, why I need to draw, why I write. I am not normal. I live two lives.

Labels: art, depressing, dreams, sad