So, I've been thinking alot recently. I sometimes feel like no one understands me. I feel like shit and so fed up. I wrote some poetry recently but my family don't really like it. Truth hurts hey. Oh well. Its funny really, I choose to write about a painful experience with words but they chose to inflict pain. From my point of view, at least its better to work through these issues with words than to do something stupid. I don't understand. I find it so depressing.
I recently had some work in the museum in Gloucester, and took part in a paintjam. That was alot of fun. I painted two large faces. I wanted to give any money raised from my work to chairity, but went to the job centre and they said I couldn't do that. So, I give up. I make paintings and they will just be not appreciated then? Because, that quite honestly its how its looking. Story of my life.
I feel so upset.
When suffering doesn't have a meaning or an end date then its pointless. I've been through too much to even care anymore. I just feel so upset.
Here's a picture thats currently at the museum and my wall painting...