I try not to get too self-involved sometimes. But given my journal entry it's fairly clear that over the past year I have tried not to write here for so long that it leaves things rather quiet. I've been drawing - I know some of you have noticed. But only seldom do I find myself thrilled with the outcome.

I feel an enormous disconnect from myself, and from my art at times. I look over the things I have done and the progress I have made. I won't deny that there has been positive improvement in various ways. Skill, but I still don't have that closure feeling, I wonder from time to time when I will come into myself, as an artist, and as a person.

All that aside, I certainly mention art here as a part of all this because of the location. But it's really been a side note, and a release for me when things really turn from mediocrity and a semblance of security to disaster.

It has subs-ceded the disaster-stage and become complete and utter torrential chaos.

I do survive because I won't allow myself not to. But in a pathetic attempt to be honest with myself(And my mini-voyeuristic audience), I have not felt myself fall and hit the ground this hard in quite a long time.

I've allowed myself to feel the struggles, and they've been physically demanding, but never quite so mentally damning.

Quietly, I am going to scream on the internet, and know that no one will hear me.

But at least it's a reprieve from sheltering my emotions with fake smiles, and nods to the rest of my household.

I don't want to apologize for the nature of this post entirely. I know that if I really needed someone to be there and listen, I could contact them and say all of this, let my inner 2 year old cry out. Let it -rain- cats and dogs.

However I'd much rather let myself scream as if I were in space, where the chances of being heard are next to none. Venting in private, while still feeling guilty if I don't post this.

Here's to crossing my fingers for a miracle, good luck, or a break. And here's to wishing I had happy pills.