Well if anyone cares, I uploaded a new painting 4 days ago. It's called 'Euphoria' and don't ask me why because I don't know. I guess I was just tired and went fuckletsjustnameitsomethingfancierthanhappy. Please view it here: PAINTING, "EUPHORIA"

Also if anyone cares I've been painting like mad lately. I have all these ideas and visions that I needed to let out. But it turned into something else entirely when I touched my canvas and I just threw down my brushes and dirtied my floor and started hating myself. My easel looks like it's a bit old, judging from the amount of paint on it. And oh yeah my room looks like a really messy studio. I have like paintings everywhere, paint tubes, brushes, and paper strewn all over the floor. I can be found like in the middle of the night sitting on a baby chair bitting worn out brushes and staring into my disaster. ARGH. Do you know how it feels like. Art makes me hate myself sometimes. It makes me see how ordinary I am. Makes me see how I have no idea, no creativity. I question myself whether I'm stupid to listen to people who thought I was artistic.

I'm sorry, I'm just in a bad place right now. I feel obese. Fat. Ugly. Hideous. Ordinary. FUCKING ORDINARY! FUCKING ORDINARY! FUCKING ORDINARY!

I don't know. Maybe it's because Nettie isn't here, or my friends aren't here. I need to tell someone EVERYTHING. I hate talking to my livejournal like its an empty wall, waiting for no one to reply, waiting until another disaster to strike until I start to feel again. It appears that I have only 2 emotions. Periods of euphoria, and days where I feel there's no end to my despair. Why can't I just be normal. Normal and artistic. Why do I always have to rely on emotions to be artistic? I want
a caramel
frappucino
NOW.
And I want to tell someone all my secrets and be done with hiding. Oh I almost forgot. They're all too busy. Oh you poor little bastard, Ana. Always hiding, always smiling, always holding on to the pain. I'm sorry I never got better.

'When will you stop?'
'Stop what?'
'This. Faking your laugh.'
'I'm not faking. This is who I am.'
'When will you change Ana?'
'I don't know.'

I don't know why I told you I am a lot better now. I'm still who I was 4 years ago. The same old shit who loved you 4 years ago.

Art. art art. I need to get better.

Labels: annoying, art, boys, depressing