So, I’m working on my second book. And it’s…draining, to say the least. When creating something, you put a piece of yourself inside of your work. Whether you are a photographer, painter, drawer, dancer, singer, writer, etc, we are all artist. Putting yourself out there is so ridiculously scary. It’s like putting yourself on display for everyone to see. Because that’s exactly what we’re doing. It’s horrifying letting people in like that because who wants to be that vulnerable ever?
So why do we do it?
There is this thing inside of me, inside of all of us. Our need to create. Our need to explore. Our need to test boundaries and open ourselves up to exposure and criticism. It’s doesn’t come from a sane place. It comes from a place of chaos and need that is suppose to make us sane. Or keep us that way, or something resembling sanity.
So, I will continue to write. Whether or not I place myself on display will still be up for debate. Or should I say whenever I decide to put myself back on display, is up for debate. There’s still this need in me to express myself in a way that invites people to take pieces of me to examine. But the sooner this story is out of me, it will no longer “threatening the life it belongs to” (Anna Nalick, Breathe (2 am)).
So many cool points if you got that reference.
Until next we meet
Bleed and Exist,
Click here to pick up Scarred and Faceless