My grandpa from overseas called a few days ago. He is a bit def for his age, so I needed to yell into the phone, but I’m glad he called. He saw my recent art posts and told me not to give up on art.
I’ve been drawing for 16 years. It’s not a very long time, but it is my whole life. I had many attempts to stop drawing, but I am already a dull block of a person, so I can’t imagine what I’d be without art. But I’m getting quite lost these days. It seems like I need to start giving meanings and purposes to my art, but they don’t mean anything. They are just products of the unconsciousness.
That’s why recently I persuaded myself to get a job. I started to draw for other people. It is the worst thing ever. It made me feel like a skilled robot. But I can’t do anything else except to draw. Maybe I am a skilled robot, after all.
I’d like to believe that I have talent. I genuinely enjoy compliments, because I really wish I had talent, or maybe I wish I had passion. I’m obsessed because I wouldn’t be anything without it. I just draw, and I don’t know why. I can’t tell when I feel happy about it, but I’m never sad. It’s just what I do, and I don’t really stop.