Please Don't Read This :(

The problem with making things is that you don't want to make them for people because people make you want to stop making things.

Like if I made this into a comic and put it on the Board, somebody I know could say "Hey, Shady made that comic. That's a really lame comic. Shady is really lame." And then they could scribble all over it and crumble it up and put in in the Hate Mail box I made for the Board just in case.

Because I'm that kind of creative thinker.

Or, I could make that 'person' who hates me (who in reality doesn't exist) into some symbolic fantasaical creature who lives in my head and feeds off of my sadness that grows out of NOT creating things.

Because of this, I find myself hiding my work from public view. (A total of four six people know about this blog, two three of which found it against my will [don't worry dad, I told you about this one]). And then they get mad at me because they say I'm selfish for not showing them things like drawings of dead people and essays on Bieber Fever, and the sadness grows greater because people make things for other people.

For every Writer there is a Reader, and in every Reader there is a Writer, and so that is the great cycle of Making Things.

Because of this sadness, I find myself trying not to make things, which makes me sadder, and then I kind of self-harm in a subconscious kind of way. So like, instead of using razor blades, I drink coffee and don't eat food, and then eat too much food, and then forget to wear a coat outside and deal with the cold when I could very easily just accept the fact that I'm allergic to caffeine and go inside and get a coat and eat three meals a day instead of erratically consuming an enture box of peanut-butter-filled pretzel bites and then just totally forgetting food was supposed to go in your mouth the next day.

And then I procrastinate on the internet, which could be exactly what you're doing right now.

I have suddenly realized I am a kid, and I wish I was more of a kid than I can be sometimes, and I don't want to be responsible for my actions and have to make big decisions about life and the Holocaust and stuff, and that voice keeps getting louder about how my words don't make sense and nobody likes what I do and therefore nobody likes me.

ANd so I turned this thought into a blog post that I will publish without editting.

Now I feel like cussing myself out.

And over dosing on egg nog.


...Again.