Rambled, Ramble, Rambling.

I try to forget, to no avail. I try to remember and am met with too many variables, too many options. Floundering, flailing, falling, failing – crying to reveries like movie screens in my tired mind before I sleep. You are only but a dream and I am nothing but the dreamer. My masterpiece, but I’m not Leonardo Da Vinci – they won’t hang you anywhere, your skin is too delicate and I was too rough with my brush. The artist forever too far, too distinct from her work, too separate and too concrete, but this is what I have. I dreamt you into life, made you all you were not, because I wanted what I wanted and would not have you any other way. But I had you, and you were not parallel to my work of art, my perfection, so you disappointed, and I strayed. I strayed and fell away. I stopped painting, and you found other hobbies. I cried for your absence, unable to paint anymore, at all. I watched my masterpiece fade. 
You faded, you’re fading, please fade, please stop this. I can’t have you, I don’t want you, I don’t need you, can’t need you. Oh god, is there a god? If there were, he’d have kept you away. But, I have to paint, and you have to be someone’s muse, and you are the only muse I’ve ever known. So pose for me, bleed for me, be for me. I will make you beautiful. I will make you something. Anything. I will make you whole. -Melillo

Tired. So so very tired. I can't think anymore for I am mentally exhausted. Painted today to relieve the pain and injustice I feel. Body war- today stronger than yesterday. Its features frighten me, I can't consume a morsel, the grumbles in my stomach ache but they numb everything else. A pain that blocks all other pain, a focus which I feel is the only one I can control. The only one I am or better yet was good at, but now even that title has been taken away from me.  You won't understand, I leave to much out. I make no sense, and yet make so much sense. Am I in control or out of control? My canvas says Out of Control, but as long as I walk, walk, walk, burn, burn, burn, skip it, skip it, skip it- then I feel like I am ok, though my heart feels weak. Why is this happening again, why can I not feel good. Art helps though...it is art therapy that healed me back in 2007 when I thought my life had ended and it is therefore why I am taking it up again. I felt taking this course might help me heal again, help me think in rational terms, and turn off the fire that has once again reignited. I must remove the negative voices that haunt me day in and day out. It is for this reason I chose to paint for the action project. One might think it does not incorporate much of the "body" but it does. My thoughts to often lead me to attack my body and alter it- hence engaging in studio art helps me to reevaluate and rewire these harmful behaviors, thus ensuring that I "get back on track". Perhaps in terms of physical effort one can not see its involvement, but for me "physical" goes way deeper than what meets the eye. Yet I still use physical force when I feel a lot of anger- I paint angry using more power and energy. 

I don't even know what to write on here. My canvas is so very dark, much like my entire being. I just transferred to NYU, I should be feeling blessed to be where I am today for if you only knew what I had been through then you would know this is much of a miracle. But I now feel like I am falling apart, trying to keep it together because I was life so very much, yet it almost feels out of my reach. Everything is so far away, yet the bottom of the pit keeps getting deeper. Every time I think I've reached the lowest of lows I am still able to fall even deeper, and yet when I rise back up and feel the beauty of all that is around me it ends up being so short lived- why does everything wish to be against me? Or am I against myself? I am not sure- but this is what I paint.