i used to write a lot, i used to draw a lot, i used to read a lot…living out in Los Angeles, a city that’s seemingly the center of the universe and thriving in the arts, you’d think an environment like that would help these creative qualities of mine thrive. But I was too busy trying to stand on my own two feet while proceeding to enroll into the crash courses of life and the reality of it all. Men and women, their standards and sharp tongues. I met a handful of artists who did inspire me, single serving friends are the only kind i’ve ever made. But for the most part, it’s a city of snakes eager to wrap themselves around you, gain control and see if you can slip out of their grip and win their approval. I was a mouse. A little mouse who was unsure of how and if she even wanted to conform. Towards the end of my stay there I saw and felt myself gradually changing into their slithering type..I had a nervous break down, binged on alcohol for a couple months, woke up with a gash and liquid stitches on my inner arm. I was a mouse, the snakes got me and i am still numb from their venom.
Here i am in my quaint Wisconsin hometown, attempting to revive or renew myself. But i’m not all the way here or there, i don’t know where my mind is or where my feelings are located. I’ve denied all medications recommended to me, it seems that slitting of the wrists is becoming an unfortunately common mile stone in life. I am not crazy, I am full of passion and emotion and it had built up inside me with no means of escape but cutting myself open and letting it out. I already feel better, but most of all it feels great not to care anymore.