Thursday, July 25, 2013

I am an artist.

I love being an artist. Honestly, I do. 

As an artist you have ups and downs. You battle with being "emo", or too sensitive. You hurt easily and you feel the deepest joys with a fervor that surpasses reason. You battle with the feeling of being an utter weirdo and wonder if you're legitimately crazy. But you delve into the passion of creation like no other. You tap into that ether that every human longs to connect to. And you express it.


You share that piece of yourself that so many people secretly, or even openly, wish to, too. There's a magic in being an artist. A torrential connection to oneself and others that is constantly in flux and yet more solid than the strongest will. You allow yourself to feel. And better yet, to find the power to record that feeling. In my mind, there is nothing as special as that.

Of being weird.

And constantly craving to give more. There is unique beauty in being an artist. And drawing on that vulnerability. Finding a level of creativity that can touch another persons soul, and connect with it. A natural high that legitimizes existence.

Am I being too intense?


I'm an artist.