I think I create art for a weird reason. When I'm going through these periods of numbing pain, these periods where little makes sense. When the world gets all muffled and the cage in my mind becomes my world.
I create art then. I draw. I write. I paint.
I make a mark in this world.
I make a mark to show people how even someone like me can make something. What I make is never pretty, but it exists.
Perhaps I was created for the very reason of creating my art.
I like thinking that. That my art, such small meaningless words and sketches, had a place in this universe so irreplaceable that I was brought into existence to create it.
That thought makes me breathe a little easier these days.Your story here...
and then Add to home screen.