Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them.
Hey Blogger, it's me again. How long has it been? Over a year? I guess a lot has happened. I feel like the is a post where I should write a whole long, meaningful, well written post. But the honest truth, at this very moment, is that I have nothing to write well. I'm weirdly okay with that, which is very much a new thing for me. I'm one of those people who are constantly trying to be the best at what I do, which is almost a non-stop challenge. So lets just say what's on our minds, well... Yesterday I had the worst day I think I've had in a long time, the hard thing about that is that I struggle with depression and when it hits... Oh man it hits. But what is so wrong with that? I was sitting there, trying my best to take pills to make me sleep the pain away, calling everyone that I had already over called, non-stop chain smoking a new pack, not eating, hardly being able to breathe from the pain that was going on in my chest. It's hard to read that,
