I found an old journal I kept about a year to two years ago. It is interesting to lay back and go through the past. Memories start to run through my mind... not always very clearly. I have a few occurances in my past that are rather disturbing to me. Not to mention doing(or consuming) a few other things that have effected my memory. Enough of it comes through though, enough for me to know I don't have any dissociative dissorder to worry about.
To get back to what I was writing about, it can be confusing running through these memories from long ago(it feels like long ago, though it wasn't). All of them have such strong emotions attatched to them that I can't relate to anymore. I see and read these things from my past and it feels so foreign to me... it doesn't feel like me at all. I do know that they were done by my hand. The style is very familar to me. It basically feels like I'm seeing things written in a dream, and in some instances I'd say a nightmare.
So why am I writing this? I was looking at the
It is hard for me to explain what my sketches mean. In the past I refused to even try. Actually I didn't let anyone see these things till recently. Its only been a few months now that I considered myself an artist... though still amateur one. I still don't understand it. I didn't really know that I had any talent what-so-ever until only a couple of years ago. Now it still suprises me that I can put my emotions into pictures better than into words.
Sorry for not giving all the info on the picture. Some know why I would refer to my past in this way. Though to those who are confused... sorry. These sketches are my way of conveying personal feelings without being perfectly straight forward about it.
Well, at least I tried to clear things up a little. Now on to class....