Where I'm At With Paint

I long to go and scream in charcoal and bleed in ink. I ache to be awash and adrift in my own creativity. It feels more like a desert these days. If only my hands were a mess and my mind in balance. I am a tempest of contradictions and conflicts.  


I’m drowning in my need to be loved and yet I am not scared of anything more than being loved. I want it to be easy. I am running from the pain before it can become manifested. And in that I am in pain. For I am not in love and have never been. Yet I wish so strongly for something I do not understand. 


I miss something I’ve never had and someone I’ve never known. It paints me to be mad and raving. I’m simply someone in love with the idea of being in love. 


The part of me that loves is very good friends with the part that creates. They are different sides to the same coin. There are times where they contradict each other greatly and days where they are one in the same. They are the driving force of all I do; when one gets tired and sleepy motivation walks out the door. 


I’m not ready to paint again. It just kinda hurts so I settle for drawing and writing till my fingers cramp and seize. I’ll go on drawing for now. Till it clears the cobwebs and makes painting less daunting. I’ve painted my way through this life but it has failed to communicate to my soul the way it used to. 


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