I write as someone who was an artist. Someone who found art an escape, a part of them, the heart of them. I left it because I had to fight the world in order to survive and to help those around me survive.
The retail world sucked me in and has kept me hidden from my art. I cannot survive much longer.
I want to make it, I want to show it. I want to be in my art again.
Kill me now if I don't make art again. Capitalism is destroying the aesthetic and dream world. We need out dreams. We need out imagination. We need to feel like we have something unattainable, untouchable by all this awfulness.