I used to write obsessively. I don’t anymore. Why?

When I was in high school and college I journaled constantly.   I would stay up late recording my thoughts, what happened that day, what I was going through.  I reread what I wrote the day and night before and added to it, reflecting on it.  I developed a relationship with myself by writing to myself.  I was the main character in the story and I was the audience reading the story.

Then something changed.  A breakup was the catalyst.  Over the summer of 1996 I stopped writing.  I started making art ferociously.  I needed something tangible; a concrete manifestation of my existential crisis.

The years of my life have doubled since that time.  I’ve been designing and maintaining a growing website of my paintings this whole time.   But I haven’t said a word.

This is my first blog post.

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