11122020

I talk a lot about the importance of sincerity when it comes to creating things, but the truth is, I don’t think I even live up to that myself. Or rather, I’ve come to realise, I believe, that the sincerity I practice is sincerity not towards a good thing – that is to say, perhaps, love – but rather, far more often towards spite, and envy. I’ve found that my creative urge manifests most directly and strongly in the moments of my most profound anger and bitterness; when I feel overwhelmed by my hatred for others, and myself. 

Realising that is painful, and inconvenient. But what’s even more painful and inconvenient are all the moments – like now – when I feel that anger swell up within me, but there’s no release.