I can definitely say I have nothing to definitely say

-Today I made my first attempt at painting. I don’t know shit about art or painting and other then a few basic things I don’t plan on learning anything other then by trial and error. I worked for about an hour and basically just made a big mess but I really enjoyed making that mess. I didn’t think about anything but what I was doing for that whole hour, I didn’t get distracted, I didn’t do anything but lose myself in my mess. Granted the painting so far looks like it was done by a five year old but I don’t care. I have this incredible desire to create and be creative, I can’t ignore it and I have no choice but to find every way possible to indulge in it. I write my stupid poetry, I post my pointless blogs, I keep an overwhelmingly dull journal, I pretend to be a musician and now I paint badly too.

-I’ve been thinking a lot about my writing the past few days. Like I posted a couple weeks ago, what is my story? If writers have a voice, what is mine? Nobody wants to read my continues self loathing and mediocre ramblings about how hard my average little life is. I’m not overly smart, funny or talented. I’m not mystical or intriguing. I’m a recovering alcoholic with depression and anxiety disorder. Boring. The meds I’ve been taking have me craving your attention less. I don’t feel the need to say the things you want to hear anymore which is good except I don’t know what I want to say for myself. I don’t know who I am, where I’m going or how I get there. Is it possible that I’m a writer with out a voice or maybe a voice with out any words? I can’t speak for you because I cant speak for myself. I can definitely say that I have nothing to definitely say.

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