i have paint all over my knees and on the backs of my forearms, and i wish i could say it was for something more than it is - but i can’t. and i doubt that i ever will. i always have these great ideas that never have anything to show for themselves. i’m so fucking broken and it’s really wearing me down. where is my fucking inspiration? before it seemed that i had nothing, but everything was flowing and it all made sense on paper. right now is nothing. i feel like i’m on my meds. i feel so indifferent and lack-luster. i feel i feel i feel. i am i am i am. maybe it’s because i’m aiming for a certain tone, a creation of an atmosphere. i should get over that.
