I felt good about October. For the most part.

I felt good at the end of October. I felt accomplished. Like I had done something good.
All I did was make it. I made it to November. What an accomplishment! 

High fives all around. But after it sunk in... 

Here I am, the 14th and I'm a shadow of my former self.

I really have been trying to take an inventory and see what makes me happy.
I've been so dark and sad for so long.
Something said to me kind of put in in perspective. I was told, what happened to your drive? When I met you, you were really passionate about making stuff, and you had this aura, but now it's dimmed, or gone. 

It made me think, like damn, what am I bringing to the table?

I really need to stop wallowing in my shit pile.

It's time to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. 

Get back to making stuff you feel cool about. Get back to doing things you feel cool about. 

Where did it go? I need to go on a mission to mind myself again.

I need to soul search and do some art studies.
I really need to find my voice again. Find my drive and passion.

I need to figure out how to start. 

Welcome to November.

I spent a lot of time recently just trying to realign my artist self.
I honestly do not know why I even call myself an artist anymore.
Real talk, I don't fucking do anything. It had been so long since I made anything that when we get together on art days I will start something but I can't seem to execute.

I spent the last hour going through old drawings and stuff I've made and I looked at it and just felt embarrassed by it all. I'm sitting here at an art club, that I put together, with artists that just /have/ it.
I was looking through my old stuff to kind of re-affirm that I had it too. Trying to prove my lying brain that I am worthy. Or that I am of some kind of something...

I fucking don't. I have nothing. I cringed at my old drawings, thinking I had made something of note. I felt shame, and even just wanted to outright delete everything from my RedBubble.

Why did I believe people when they said I was talented?
Were they just being nice? Why would people just lie like that?
Why did I buy into the idea that I could make something of value?

I've been thinking about it a lot because Tucson Con just passed and my girl friend said she had a hard time, much like I did. What was bugging me was that her artwork is a lot better than mine. Which got me thinking about things. I just confirmed with myself that I just can't cut it anymore. I don't have what it takes.
I foolishly tried to do con for 4 years. And barely scraped by each time. I invested so much in myself only to hardly get by.

It's a reoccurring theme in my life. I think I'm cool, and I do the things and it turns out that I'm not, and I'm just a piece of shit.

I sit here today, certain of that fact. Facing it isn't as hard as I thought. Because deep down I knew I was just pretending that I could be something. Going through the motions, just doing the things I thought were "good" for me.

I really just want to disappear, as if to just reinvent myself or be someone completely different.

I also thought that today could be the day I work on finding myself through art.
Why don't I just create stuff in hopes that I find my voice?
Why not work on stuff that does make me feel good?
But then I remind myself I've been already doing that and it's not gotten me anything.
It's been a charade. Smoke and mirrors the whole time.

Maybe it's just a bout with artistic depression. Maybe it's just a combination of that and actual depression. Maybe it's reality finally kicking in and I'm able to comprehend it.

Either way I feel like garbage and I can't fight against myself because I have no actual ammunition.
The shit is very honest, and real. I can't argue with it.