when i’m sad, i paint clouds. They remind me that there are things i can like without having high expectations. And that it doesn’t matter if i’m not great at it, because they’ve got no explicit form, no explicit colour. There are much more beautiful clouds than my halfassed paintings, that’s fucking obvious to anyone, but that doesn’t make mine a monstrosity.
On other news, i’m sorry i am not what you expected, i am disappointed too, but there’s little i can do about that now. Even if i’m disappointed, i find myself unable to keep trying for now. I’ll try again tomorrow. Next month, next year.
I’ll always be sorry about this particular part, you know, ‘cause i really wanted to fulfill every expectation.
i wanted perfection and i could not be farther from it if i tried. accepting this particular reality is always a sad thing.
A thing to draw clouds to.