Journal #1

Ello yall, so this probably isnt what yall have come to expect from this patreon, but I've felt the need to let my thoughts run on paper so to speak, if anything to give myself some much needed catharsis. This doesnt serve as a rant or a call for anything, but perhaps yall might be interested in getting a peek in my noggin. I dont know if I'll do a lot of these journals or if it will be a one time thing, but I anticipate this one atleast to be fairly long so feel free to skip it, it will most likely be me just asking a lot of un-answerable questions lol. Again, to reiterate, don't see this as the journal of a depressed teen hidden under the pillow, but instead, the mear mussings of a mind among many.

Journal #1

There's been a lot on my mind lately. Myself, my family, the world and the hereafter, my mind and my art and my place within it all. To say I've lived my life in a state of confusion wouldn't be inaccurate, and I feel that I've been telling myself the same thing everyone else always has, that there is an answer, that there is an end destination and that there is clarity if you're willing to look for it. Even for the skeptics that say life is meaningless, there is still an inevitable end. But I wonder, is that true? If in a dream we can live a lifetime within a moment, who is to say the final dream might not be an eternal one?

I'm not even sure what I'm saying at this point. What's troubling me? For the past few days I've struggled to get out of bed and can barely manage to work on anything. Which is strange because I can still feel the craving of progress, of financial stability. Of inevitability. Of certainty. I am very fortunate to be in the position that I am, better than many others, and yet I still manage to get trapped chasing thoughts. 22,000 days until my death and each one passes by with little concern with how I feel about it. I could never commit suicide. I doubt I have felt the pain or numbness that others have felt that drove them to take their own lives, but I have felt pain, and for many years I have been numb. I sometimes wonder what life would have been like had I never receded into my shell, had I remained that child that lived with so much more livetity. I used to take pride in the fact that my feelings were so receded. That my family could die and I might not shed a tear. I’ve often lived and relived how they might pass and what I might feel about it, and with the onset of the current pandemic those thoughts have never felt closer to home. And even now, as I imagine my mother gasping het last, I feel she would not want me to be sad, or perhaps, her feelings may be hurt that I am so ready to accept her passing. Either way I cannot know for certain. Maybe I’ll break down, maybe I’ll only shed a single tear. But no amount of pain would drive me to take my own life. Ofc that may change, say I were to be tortured for days on end but I think that would be the same for almost anyone. The point is, I live not by my own strength nor my ambition, nor for any higher cause or for anyone else, but merely, simply, for my art.

Is it silly to say so? As I draw porn of cartoon characters for a living and call myself an artist? I’ve said it before that I draw not because I want to or because I have anything unique to say, but because that's simply what I do. I'm a bird that flies and it doesn't matter how I feel about it, I’m going to fly. How lucky I am to have a purpose that expands a lifetime. The path before me is clear and present, no matter how lost I may become it will always be there. I will become a great artist not because I want to or because I must, but because that is the natural progression of an artist of my caliber. I must remind myself that the dissatisfaction I feel for my art is just a constant reminder that I can and will get better.

But even with that certainty, I still feel anxious, I feel angry and am impatient. In the world we live, I see it with open eyes. I know I don't understand everything, the reason why I am so hesitant to speak. You can't be wrong If you don't speak. But every great artist had a message they pushed, a voice. When I think of my voice I think of blood in a snow white forest, quiet rage that links two divides of black and white. I know I am ignorant, and I do not take pride in it, but I see people hurting, I see hate and separation, corruption and blatant lies. And worst of all, stupidity. Those that say they understand, that are so blinded by their selfishness that they can't see the forest for the trees. I have a voice. I know that for certain. But I have to be patient. There's little I can do or say in a meaningful way in my current state. But the anger remains, and yet all we can do is cry out and gnash our teeth to deaf ears. They say the pandemic will get worse before it gets better, that in the worst case scenario millions may die and that the economy will crumble. Good people are going to be hurt. Our “leader” implies that a few million lives are worth saving the economy. This whole pandemic really has brought out the best and worst of us all. Is this what it takes? Millions of lives ruined for people to see how fucked everything is? Jesus its depressing just knowing how idiotic people can be. The hypocrisy and self righteousness really makes me sick. At the very least all this will be really excellent fuel for some future creative endeavors.

To be honest, I think I have a lot of anger towards the world. And I’m aware that that includes a lot of really kind and wonderful people. I guess it is a little surprising that anger may be a major driving force in my inspiration, then again I have always been pretty passive. That may also explain the satisfaction I have when I see news of this pandemic. That most likely the majority of people that become sick will be those that were too stupid or ignorant to listen to the people trying to help them. And yet it's through them that good people will become sick and suffer, which only bolsters my hatred for them even more.

It's strange. That if you were to ask me if I think the world would be better of without stupid, prideful, and ignorant people the answer would be obvious. What good is a spiteful person? But would I condemn them If I had the power? Would I be happy to see them suffer and die off? Not really. Suffering does no one any good. Even though I may loathe them that doesn't mean I want them gone. It's a passive anger. Something I just feel, and as the selfish and ignorant are paid their dues the anger subsides. It’s difficult to explain really. I feel my voice may exactly be one of righteous anger. It's always been my favorite thing to experience in novels and other stories, when one’s anger is justified. Hatred. Something never directed but felt. That's a very interesting notion. To hate stupidity, ignorance, vile and selfish people. But it's not the specific person is it? A government can be these things, as well as a corporation. A group of people, an ideal, a belief. So what do I hate? Because it isn't the people. They are simply vessels for the things I hate. The ideals, the ignorance, the stupidity. Is this why my anger remains passive? That I stay quiet? Because hate directed to the person would be the wrong target? Very interesting. Hatred, but as a sound. An invisible presence. An aversion to stupidity and ignorance.

Even then however, I know that the best thing to combat stupidity is kindness, compassion, level headedness and understanding. But that's for people isn't it? Stupidity is a virus that is always present, moving from person to person like a ghost. Cure one person and a dozen more fall prey to it. Is that why this pandemic is such a cathartic event? That the mere possibility of stupidity in the world being massively reduced? I wonder, is it possible to be aware that something is wrong even if somewhere within you it sparks satisfaction. I don't want anyone to suffer and If I had the power I’d eliminate the pandemic in an instant… But can I even say that that's the truth? Apparently this is what it takes for the world to see all that is wrong with it. For people's true nature to come forth. Is the scalpel evil because it causes pain and leaves a scar if it reveals the abscess? Are millions of lives lost a symptom of a greater underlying issue? I'd say the answer is clear, even as morality would say otherwise. It is apparent that the price of rooting out the truly wicked and selfish is many a soul, as it always has been. So strange that something is only evil if a human has the power to influence it. We do not blame the virus, but the people that influence it. Does that then not make every person evil in a sense? That we all do not gather together in a single voice to fight this? If not, then I may take satisfaction in my role as a quiet observer. As the world burns I look forward to the flowers that may bloom from the ashes.