this heart didn't come with instructions.

i came to a realization today. and it made me a bit sad. i don’t quite know what to do with it.

remember when you were younger, and you’d do some kind of crayon drawing, and your parents would complement it and put it on the fridge? or maybe they had you in art classes, or maybe they just let you figure it out, but weren’t they always encouraging?

my parents were never like that. don’t get me wrong, my parents are two of the best parents anyone could ask for (most of the time), and they encouraged me in almost everything else i did as a kid. but not art. it was always hockey, soccer, golf, school, etc.

but never art.

art was just never a big deal to them. it still isn’t. they’ve never seen the value of art or the artist. they still don’t give a shit about anything i do even remotely related to art.

i realized that this is why i’m so absolutely terrible at it. but i love it. it’s my passion. i’m actually getting a bit better at this photography thing. but i always have this question in the back of my mind: “what if they had encouraged me? how much better would i be with 17 years of experience under my belt?”

just one of those things that makes me sad to think about.

i don’t dream anymore.

completely numb right now.

its the most horrible feeling in the world.

i need something or someone to snap me out of this. to grab me by the neck and squeeze and shake till im blue.

to remind me that i’m fucking alive.