I Am an Artist

I am an artist.

Just as many have been before and many more will follow. It’s not just a skill or a talent. It is life. Every part of who I am is incapsulated by the desire to create even though in my eyes, I’m not even good.

Colour.

Movement.

Words.

Life.

Nothing can escape.

My walls are filled with paintings. I spend hours lost in the complex world of colour. Sounds often show up as physical waves I can tough with my mind. My room gets messy. My brain gets even messier. All I want to do is create.

But its not always as glorious as it may seem. Somedays my imagination takes its own path and drags me along behind it.

Anxiety.

I swear I can write the best stories in my head. I can convince myself of things that will never happen. I build off of one fantasy until a whole castle has been built and I’m locked in the top with my own mind as the dragon. But if I don’t tell anyone these stories, no one will know that I need saving. I peer out the window at a vast expanse of green land waiting to be explored with one hand holding a knife and the other holding my fallen locks that once hung to the ground as a natural rope. I isolate myself in such a way that no one will be able to climb up to help unless I throw down a ladder.

Maybe I stand alone up here with my eyes closed. Black. My eyes peel open and still, the dull grey of the stone holds me captive. Colourless.

Depression.

Somehow I am drowning and the village below has no concept of what that means. I’m drowning though there is no water. I’m screaming but there is no sound.

Imagination. Maybe I’m imagining my sadness. Everyone says “I can’t imagine what you are going through.” Please don’t! Don’t imagine it! I wouldn’t wish this depression on anyone.

As the walls slowly cave in, I desperately try to throw colour at the walls. I don’t want to be here forever, alone in the tower, but while I’m here, I will continue to create with every bit of strength I have until I find my way out.

I am an artist.

Just as many have been before and many more will follow. It’s not just a skill or a talent. In fact, sometimes its a burden and a chore.

But this is life.

My life.

xo,

Brae

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