Should I just cry, should I just seize all efforts? Whats wrong with me I ask. Terrified of the world, scared of all, I wander what feels like a liminal state- not knowing where I belong, entering new environments yet still invisible. I curl and hide, I belong no where. Who are those that call me by my name? Do they even know who I am?
 What runs through their minds about me? Did I say too much? Do they treat me as they do because they know my interior- my weaknesses, my lack of self----. Perhaps, but I was also told to release these thoughts, never to hold them in for they only drove me to ruins in the past. But now I feel its a danger to say what I truly feel- a trap onto the battlefield, a reason for others to take advantage. 

I paint today, I paint sadness and anger, doom and hatred. Why do I think these things- why does this demon possess my entire being?! I do not wish to be this way or to feel this way and that is why I still risk things- that is I still take chances and do things which terrify me, for instance NYU. I am there but so scared that I am barely present. I wish they saw me but at the same time I panic, my chest burns, and I loose breathe when they do. When they notice me I wish they never did for all I think of is how to get out of the current situation and back into hiding. What has scared me so ever deeply that my wounds now remain exposed, bleeding, and refusing to heal? Whenever I have a moment of peace within myself the stitches pop off, flying across the room, leaving me bleeding on the floor. I paint red. My brush splatters the canvas- I jab the sponge at it. Colors of hell are unleashed, or maybe earth for earth is my hell. This release feels good, anxiety lowers, though I know its temporary. Purging on canvas I call it. LET ME FREE I ask of it in black liquid. I feel shattered- I paint this. I feel like tears thus I paint this too in murky grays and blues. The energy I expel onto the canvas feels therapeutic. Letting go of the negativity- or better yet temporarily removing it from inside me and shifting it to outside of me and onto the canvas- exposing it to light, giving it a form. I know the second I breathe it will like a demon, once again posses me.

I stumble upon them but cannot utter a word, a tortured soul I am. I just don't want to care anymore! I care so much that in trying to avoid coming across as that which I don't want to be seen as, I end up being seen as just that! I am loosing opportunities and connections.

Alleviate me of this pain, fear, trap, and animosity I have toward myself - I paint this as I splatter, brush, and  circle my piece. Allow me to be a free spirit I ask, be myself, show the world who I really am! I feel suffocated- I too paint this, I feel claustrophobic- I express this in a small corner of my piece as the rest closes in on me. 

My piece is thus far a combination of the abstract, confusing, dark, screaming, and loud. Its a combination of that which many won't understand, but I on the other hand can see which stroke, shape, and color depicts which emotion- even if the observer sees no shape at all. I criticize it- its ugly, no talent, no artist am I. Nothing I am. No one can ever see this I say. I need talent- I can never be an art therapist. AHH!!!!!!!! Will I ever prove myself wrong? Must I forever be trapped? Must I pray to a God I don't believe in? 

I am on my knees- I paint that too.