edgarallenpoeet

[edgarallenpoeet]

i cannot hate myself into a version of me i will love.

[edgarallenpoeet]

By making art, you are affirming your existence, your personality and yourself. However, without other people to affirm it for you, it feels incomplete, because you might have spent all your life creating art and showing it to others so much so that it became an inseparable part of the process. Relearn. Rewire. Drawing for yourself feels a lot like putting the phone down for a day and realizing you feel like a part of you is missing, but you could learn how to have fun without it. Likewise, learn how to draw for yourself. Any particular body features you've been meaning to perfect? Any shading techniques? Hell, draw your comfort character doing cool things! Indulge in what you want to create! Learn how to be fulfilled around people and apart from them. makes life feel more complete, ya know?

Been grappling with the internalized idea that art needs to be seen by someone else in order for it to be of value. I logically know that art can Just Exist in the same way that people Just Exist and the way that plants Just Exist and everything that exists can Just Exist, but whenever I'm making something whether it be a painting or poem or a sculpture I am constantly just thinking about how it needs to be good so I can show someone.

And it's not even about justifying the time I spent on it; I've gotten to a point where I don't feel a lot of guilt about leisure activities or "wasting time". I just have this deep internal need to be validated for every creation.

Part of it is that art is about communication, about taking the abstract concepts of life, emotion, and experience and turning them into something tangible that someone else can look at and say, "I understand this." So when I'm creating I am thinking ahead about how I will communicate with others through art.

But sometimes I make something that I know no one else will see and I still feel the pressure to make it good so I can show someone. And this is real annoying because it kills the creative spirit and makes hobbies into chores. So then I can't make art for fun or profit.

And so then I start thinking that maybe the real enemy is a fear of communicating with myself. Because being alone with your own thoughts is pretty scary when your entire stable identity is built off of reflecting other people like light off a mirror.

(A.k.a. a lot of words to justify that one fanfiction I haven't updated since 2020).

[edgarallenpoeet]

Sometimes I see something that makes a piece of me die a little, but then I give it fucking cpr and remind myself that if something is going to kill me, it'll be worth it and not stupid and predictable capitalism effects

[edgarallenpoeet]

My throat is grating

My nails are breaking

My teeth are yellow and chipped

And my knees buckle, my insides rip

Theres no punchline to this song

Nothing, despite my wish to play along

What else are you supposed to do

When youve been wrapped in your brain fog for so long

Ive given up

Im far more than someone who surrendered

Short bursts of reanimation

Dont make me enough

For a world full of living people,

magicians who escape handcuffs

[edgarallenpoeet]

I wonder what cj the x would think about this

[edgarallenpoeet]

[edgarallenpoeet]

[edgarallenpoeet]

Terribly lonely feeling, even more terribly lonely when he's gone too.

[edgarallenpoeet]

People talk about depressed, tortured geniuses

Creating incredible, groundbreaking work until they pass, burning in glory

These are the expectations of the strongest

When you live past that point, when the flame extinguishes before you do

You're no longer a genius

It's projects left unfinished, friendships faded away, cancelled plans

And i wish there was some glory for us too

[edgarallenpoeet]

[edgarallenpoeet]

There is a house in the distance,

A farm house.

Or at least, you assume.

Roof darker than walls (safe to say red and white)

in the shades of blue than engulfed your sight.

Only a speck of yellow stood out.

Dazzling amongst crops, tall grass and sprouts.

A beacon, in the living desert of passed down land

Passed down responsibilities, vows and food gone bland.

At their prime long ago.

Now only weeds and dirt rest where the fruit should grow.

But it isn't in vain they withered away.

Because what they left still stays,

providing you a place to rest, you runaway.

Your breathing softens, your eyes let go of the tears they'd been holding ever since you saw that reassuring glow.

[edgarallenpoeet]

[edgarallenpoeet]

I'm a man of many names

A jack of all trades

But just as the clock strikes ten

And the sea of faces changes, never the same again

I feel submerged by shame

Of never staying in one place for too long

"Jack of all trades"

But the master of none

And I sit in my bed, thinking of this all alone

[edgarallenpoeet]

[edgarallenpoeet]

Nothing is created and nothing is destroyed. Everything is transformed.

If all the scientists were right

And nothing is created nor destroyed, but instead transformed

That means some things are never truly gone

And in the sky, the smoke from the first fire still lingers

The laughs, the cries, the long conversations under the starlight, words of great thinkers

They're all still there, whether we know it or not

Ringing, echoing, guiding us along

Maybe one day, once we've had a little too many drinks and a little too much to say,

It'll be far, far too much, and the earth will might give away

[edgarallenpoeet]

I want the stars

The moon

☆

Give me all the food money can buy

Give me all the raindrops and clouds from the sky

I want the sea

Separate the liquid from the salt, give it to me

☆

And give me the sweetest milk around

I'll use it to water all the things you gave me, the things I buried next to the me in the ground

☆

Pour expensive oils and light it up with a match

Look away when you see it catch

[edgarallenpoeet]

What is god?

What is god?

Is it the feeling you get when you run through tall grass?

What is god?

Is it seeing an old lady crossing the street and a kid rushing to help her pass?

What is god?

When you walk into an empty church at night and you feel safe despite being terrified of the dark?

Maybe god is what you see after you get punched for coming up with a particularly annoying remark.