A great artist is nothing u want to be, it's a madness that you struggle with, the expression is art, but the line between pure amazing happiness and death is so close to eachother. I struggle to the infinity to describe IT. But behind every corner there is a new corner, and sometimes I feel like im running around the same building, only it gets bigger. My tribe is lost, I run faster to find the answere, but I lost my tribe in the run, no one is there to cheere me up when im fatigued. Tiered, dying, alone. I start to realise that the epiphany im chasing ironicly is death. Why would I rush myself to death? Why run at all? I must sit down, breath, take in the present and enjoy everything and everyone that is. I just have to accept the beauty, ignore the ugly, sleep, dream, be in love with the truth, erase all illusions, create the now, ignore the past and the future. Rest, sleep. I just wanted to be so much that i eventually didnt want to be, be loved. I want to give love, but what love is there to give, when im not loved? None.2009-11-08
