I dream
a disturbing

I have to become someone else, distort myself, hide myself, alter, transform, I’m not good enough. I can’t reveal myself as myself. Conform. Keep everything in, guard it, don’t let it be seen, even when I just want to scream and cry and make a mess, destroy, get angry.

I don’t allow myself to be visible.

Let me be
let me be
let me be
let me be

The thoughts
run wild
but on the outside
smooth surface
no waves

i must be bad
i must be worthless
i must be wrong
i must be broken
otherwise wouldn’t I be different?

I don’t understand why I seem to think that there is a way to be and that inherently, I must have misunderstood everything. As if there was a right way, as if there was a set future, as if I should be upside down.

All I misunderstand is that there is an understanding.

There is nothing
if I allow there to be nothing.

I’ve tricked myself into thinking
that things matter
and I still
live in my


Why did we create a world where nobody seems to fit in?

Or perhaps a better question would be


I’ve never felt like there’s is a place or a purpose for me. No path offered has seemed right, no journey has taken me anywhere. I began to suspect: (a) I can’t be the only one (b) it’s not just me/us, it’s the system and the structure.

Made to believe
things to achieve
rules to follow
ways to behave
lies to tell yourself

But now
so much
to un ta n gle

set free

I’m struggling to make sense of all this. I know instinctually and intellectually that there is something that I am getting at, but the realization of it seems to be yet out of reach. It feels so vast to grasp. And I feel so helplessly tiny.

But then again
a revolution
can be small.

making art

I find it hard to talk about my art practice. It feels as if I’ve forgotten all the words and I suddenly need to hide. And stay hidden. Forever. It’s the thing that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. Not the doing of the art but the talking about the art.

For me, art is an exploration of things I cannot yet explain. It’s a way for me to make sense of things, a way to organize my thoughts, it’s a process of piecing things together without knowing what the end result will be. It makes me feel more exposed than anything else in the world.

At the moment I’m in this weird liminal space where I find myself to be terrified of the idea of sharing anything with anyone. But at the same time I’m more or less consistently putting stuff online. I’m just not telling anyone about it as if it’s like I’m doing something that I’m not supposed to. I have not yet identified why I feel the way I do. I suppose in a way this is a sort of a time capsule that I can come back to and reflect on the past.

We shall see…




Something to note too: this draft stayed as a draft for quite some time, didn’t think I’d put it out there, did think about deleting the whole thing.


What is all this?