The voices in my head are louder than ever, forcing me to finish what I start, despite fear. I procrastinate by reading but the ideas don’t leave me, they prick me until I get up and start my work again. The curse of ideas is strong and only people who make art know this feeling. Going away from a zone that was comforting to stay in because it was all you knew. Home was heartache. Exploitative narratives of pain.
They were of use when expressing them, in fact they healed you as you healed. But now we must change the narrative. But before you can prompt the change in others, you have to do it for yourself.