Description
I never really thought of myself as depressed. Hell, my family certainly didn't talk about mental health. But even as a child, I've just always felt different, like there was a separation between me and the world. Imagine being an observer of your own life, watching yourself never quite fit in. And over the years, it just got worse. I felt things too deeply, over-analyzed every thought, tried to be everything everyone else wanted. And then, I cracked. I broke, shattering into a million pieces. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to put myself back together again. Whether my relief is through therapy or art, I can't seem to escape those thoughts. Thoughts so dark that I paint sadness just to release them. Seeing the world through blue has become my reality. And I pray that once everything is unburdened, a happier me will be set free.
Entry 1: Why I Paint
