4.8.22

I’m okay with people not knowing my side of the story. I don’t feel like I need to prove anything. But all things being equal … 

I just had what I believe to be an identity crisis. Of the worst irrational sorts.

That my entire life had been in-waiting as an imposter. I’m the understudy and the lead has never broken her leg. 


Nothing stuck, I can blame it on moving around a lot, I could blame it on not focusing on one thing to get brilliant with it, I can blame it on always focusing on the next thing, the next bright shinny thing. Choices were big deal in my life - of more directly, having options at any given time were important.


But it comes back to me. I made those decisions, every decision. I’m not the forever kind.

So in this morning mopping up after an identity crisis — sadly, all I could think of was to work harder.

I close my eyes + remember I'm inside the human condition.


 It does become so much easier to run when we believe something is chasing us. But is that more important than waiting for the present to catch up? I’d Rather hide behind my work than talk about myself.


Foot the bill + then pay for life as a side project. 

That side project will be a change of mind on the morrow.


Recently a friend forward this: That's me, below, during art school days. Tied to a NYC bank pillar. Early pirate phase, though I did not know it because the mass pirate phase had not caught up + named it yet. 





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