*black biro ( not looking) and watercolour pencils ( looking)*
I can’t complain about not sleeping tonight, as I had a great sleep last night. Also had a fantastic dream that as I lay in bed, a garden of sumptuous, jewel coloured satin and velvet flowers began growing upon the ceiling. The flowers looked like butterfly wings under a scanning electron miscroscope, but much bigger, and as I watched, they began growing faster and faster- extending down the walls in glorious stained-glass-vivid vines. It was so beautiful that I felt I must get out of bed and show someone. But then the thought crossed my mind that the flowers- now growing at quite a pace- might grow over the doorway- locking me out if I left….. or, alternatively- if I stayed- trapping me within this butterflyflower garden all by myself, with nobody to share it with. As I had this thought, some large ants, (which were running for cover from the flowers) trickled down the wall, and to my horror, one jumped into my bed. I woke up brushing invisible ants off me.
It took a lot of effort to convince myself to draw today. I no longer seem to derive any joy from it, which is a shame, seeing as I used to do quite a bit of arty stuff ( here; let me prove it). Where does that passion and enthusiasm go, I wonder? Well, actually, I don’t wonder. I know very well that it gets swallowed up by the ravenous parasite that is Depression. It’s the reason behind my inability to reclaim/retain enthusiasm for anything for longer than 5 minutes, and also the cause of the dust on my guitars, the withdrawal of my friendship from others, and the panic that my options in life are running out; the day the last ship sails- leaving me behind for good- rapidly drawing near.
Pardon the Debbie Downerism in this space which I generally reserve for the convenient escapism of nonsense and absurdity. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to achieve from it save the vague chance that it will prove relatable in some way, thus somehow providing for myself -and the people who do relate- some sort of reassurance that the experience isn’t purely a solo one.
Anyway, this drawing may not have been any fun to do, but it is nice to have some sort of evidence of having made an effort. When effort is possible, it can’t be too bad. Sending my love to anybody out there struggling with similar. Lord knows we’re only really allowed to exist on The Internet ( and then, only in certain shadowy corners) , so the least we can do is acknowledge one another on this one safe bullshit-free corner we seem to have here.
Self Acceptance for Fuckwits
(not-looking-at-page drawing w/ some actually- looking shading as afterthought)
*biro in sketchbook*
Go on, make it the most interesting and amazing blog post you’ve ever seen! The most imaginative imagining wins a prize imagined by me on a day when i’m feeling much more imaginative than i am today.