I tried to deprive myself of what I knew best in this world. In a way it began to feel like an addiction, no matter how hard I rejected the thought it was the only way for me to cope.
I'm a hopeless junkie desperate for an outlet wealthier than this.
Angry, I decided there was more to me than just self expression.
It didn't take long until I broke down.
Maybe that is my souls way of screaming "Purpose!" Or maybe I'm as mad as Van Gogh.
Whatever the reason, without art I don't know who I am.