I'm snowed in and feel a little gross from eating way too many sugar cookies and not running around enough.

I should have gone outside!  I should have made a snowman graveyard!  I should have cleaned my apartment or written letters to people I haven't talked in ages.  I should be productive.  

I am still in my pajamas.  

But at least I'm writing even if it is for a silly journal entry.  I've done a little sketching, lately, I've done some painting.  Nothing like I used to do.  No more days spent just painting and drawing and thinking.  I feel so exhausted from just living that sometimes creating is too much.  I feel so old which is silly because I'm in my early twenties.  The perfectionist and overachiever in me wants to produce things of greatness.  I want my work to be appreciated.  I want people to think that I am talented.  But I'm too old!  My talent has gone to waste(maybe I never had talent), I will achieve nothing except for clutter and frustration.  

I seriously need to relax.  Yes my drawing skills are rusty and some of my paint has dried.  And no I'm not the published or professional artist/writer I dreamt I would be.  

This is ok.

This is life.

This is my artwork anyway.  It is for me.  I need to go back to those days when I fell in love with texture and the way lines flowed.  When I enjoyed the act of looking at things.  I remember starring at things for such a long time trying to understand how I could depict them on paper.  It had a meditative and peaceful quality.  Yes, I was often frustrated.  But the frustration was productive.  I was creating.  I felt potential.  

I am going to force myself to get back into art.  If I don't I feel like I will die unhappy.  I might be a bit dramatic right now but that is good!  This is how I felt when painting!  Going through one of my old journals I found a collage that said, "Write for your life."  So true.  I need to write/draw/paint for my life.  That is how I feel right now.