Thursday, April 28, 2011

There is no fate

I have literally been drawing my fingers down to the nubs. I am in love with this story I am working on, so much so that it feels like I have become the character that it is about. Everything in my life now has a different color to it, everything I see simply turns into a new object to be transformed into the pages of the novel.
I have sketched out so many character concepts and scenes, written countless pages of scenes and commentary. I have researched weapons and clothing styles, and rearranged everything in my production area to conform to my creative streak.
I constantly alternate between digital work and paper sketches. I have grown so far beyond caring whether or not a single other person ever sees this. This one is for me and me alone.

I am still not satisfied with my abilities, I need quite a bit more practice. Nay, what I need is a lifetime of wisdom and technique development crammed into the past few months so everything I draw doesn't seem so flat. I am confident I will develop to the point of acceptability, I just hope it happens before I can't do it anymore.

I wish I could transfer my years of musical development over to artistry, that would make things easier. I don't think I wasted my life perfecting the drums for the past 20 years, but the fact that I don't even play for anyone anymore and focus all my energy on art doesn't help quell those feelings.

I guess, I wouldn't trade who I am or what I went through for anything, but it would be nice to know more people with a similar background as me, although I don't think I have ever come across anyone like that.

Sometimes, when I stare off into space, I can't even remember who I was. Which is good. There is nothing there I really care to recall, but it does make it difficult to fit in most days. Family gatherings, social outings, these are never easy things for me to deal with. Not because I am not good at them, more because they take work. Whereas most people spend time around others and they are just "being" I have to act. I have to constantly put on a show in order to not raise suspicion. Like a computer constantly running a background task it becomes taxing on me so I usually prefer to avoid these types of things for long periods. Even when I am just with my own family, it is no different. I feel bad for them, always wondering why I keep to myself so much, always in another room. The only time I can relax is when I am by myself.
Even then it can be taxing.
I think back to all the people I've known, those who thought of me as a friend, if they only knew that I never once cared for them at all. Would they have treated me differently?

This life, this prison amongst humanity, has become far too taxing on my soul.

Perhaps that is why I am pouring so much effort into this piece.

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