Stuck I’m stuck Even writing anything past this point takes excruciating effort. I feel like I’m meant to be an artist, I mean I’m depressed and shit. Deeply disturbed. The problem is I’m stuck in a ceaseless identity search. I don’t know who I am so how can I create art from this unknowing place? Art is expression, What am I trying to express? I feel crippled by the thought of trying and eventually failing, obviously. Because you have to fail in order to learn. But what happens if I can’t stand the idea of failing? Imperfection gnaws at the core of who I am and I stay empty and deeply hungry for some sort of glimpse inside myself. I’m so tired of wondering. I’m so tired of not knowing. I’m so tired of trying to explain myself to other people, because I don’t get it either. It doesn’t make sense. I’m stuck, man. Absolutely stuck. -KN
