"No Love, Make War"
Now don’t take that PostSecret image the wrong way. I haven’t been depressed, I just have been stuck in a rut. Been caught drowning myself in life’s difficulties and not finding the strength to leap over those obstacles. It really does plug up the outlets where my creative juices flow out onto the piece of paper for a couple of days, but after awhile (and I’ve been doing great at keeping my blankness to a minimum of 24 hours), the pain and suffering and feeling so sorry for myself diminishes and an epiphany appears out of nowhere. The creative juices leak through and bursts out rushing and gushing downstream until I stab that paper with open wounds until Beauty infects it.
Coming home is difficult. Especially after abandoning it and it’s people for four long years. You get to see what has changed and what hasn’t. You get to see how far you’ve come. You get to see the person you used to be and the person you are now. It’s good to always be visiting Forest Park, seeing old friends, becoming comfortable with the familiar atmosphere, but sometimes it’s intoxicating and blurs your vision. The old self, the old Elisha, the one back from 4 years back, that ghost almost became reality again. It was a hard battle to fight off, and I realized how much I don’t want to be her again. I had to remind myself over and over again why I returned: Art. I’m here to do big things, I’m here to make an impact.
I’ve got so many goals I want to accomplish other than graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Visual Communications. That’s just the education part of it. That’s just my ticket to the real world. I came here to open up my own gallery downtown. I came here to spread the word about art to other young students.
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