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.